Water Dancer
by Lyra Alexandra
Summary: This story alters the show's timeline a little. It takes place after Arya has already learned to be fight in Bravos and can change her face at will - therefore she is a little older than she is in in the show. He charachter is my interpretation of a more grown up/ruthless version of Arya. I hope you enjoy it - it is a bit different but I have done my best to keep it as true as poss
1. Chapter 1

In The Beginning

"I want to do this!"

"Your place is here! You are a lady, you will marry a lord, your sons will be knights, your daughters will be ladies, and you will be head of a holdfast next to your husband." Lord Eddard Stark said staring wistfully into the middle distance.

"No, that's not me." Arya jumped up. "That's Sansa." She mumbled storming out of the room and down the hall.

 _How can I convince them that the life they want for me is not the one I want? I want to be a knight; I want to be like the Water Dancers the Bravosi traveller told me about._

Arya burst through the large wooden doors that lead to her room, thrusting her right arm to prevent the door slamming back in her face.

"So no luck then?" Sansa asked innocently sitting on the end of Arya's bed.

"No! No matter what I say, he just won't let me go."

Sansa sighed. "Bravos is a long way from Winterfell, why can't you be happy here?"

"And do what? Embroider stupid little designs with the Septa hanging over me, telling me I'm doing it all wrong?" Arya stood and started pacing around the room.

"Well I'm sure if you just paid more attention to the Septa, you'll get better..."

"But I don't want to get better! I hate embroidery, I'm never going to use it so what's the point in learning it? I want to learn to fight, I'm already better than Bran at Archery and he's been practicing a lot longer than me."

"That's unfair Arya, Bran's only 10!"

"I know! That's not what I meant. I meant that I'm much better at archery than I ever will be at embroidery no matter how much I practice. Would you really have father force me to do something I hate for the rest of my life?"

Sansa's jaw dropped in shock. "Arya, you're being silly! I'm sure mother can find you something else to do that you'll enjoy better!"

"No she won't! C'mon Sansa, you're my sister. Can't you just this once, help me with this?"

"But you're a lady, you're to wear pretty dresses and marry a handsome lord and give him children to rule over his kingdom" Sansa said in the same wistful way their father had. She locked eyes with her sister. "That's our duty, to father, to mother and to our house. Not to dress like a boy and run around in the mud, look at you, you're filthy!"

Arya groaned and threw herself down on the bed again. Sansa stood and went to the door. "Thanks." Arya mumbled.

Sansa turned. "For what?"

"For being my sister."

Sansa huffed and slammed the door on her way out.


	2. Chapter 2

Realisation

Eddard Stark looked after Arya as she marched off away from him. He sighed, _she's always been difficult, always broke the rules, and did her own thing; spent more time trailing after her brothers, trying to do what they did than staying with her sister and learning to be a lady._

Eddard was no fool; he knew how much Arya hated learning how to be a lady. He barely recognised her in a dress, with her hair tied up and her face washed, he laughed.

Lord Stark stood and strode through the long stone corridors of Winterfell to the Great Hall, where he knew his wife would be.

"Cat, we need to talk." He said as soon as he saw Catelyn talking to one of the servant girls. She turned to look at him then dismissed the girl. "It's about Arya. I think we've made a mistake."

"What are you talking about?" She asked sternly.

Ned hesitated, thinking how best to phrase his thoughts. "You know that she'll never be a lady, no matter how much we force her to sit in her lessons she won't be what we want her to be and we shouldn't force her to be."

Catelyn shook her head. "Ned, we can't let her do what she wants, the world doesn't work like that. What kind of future do you think she'll have if we send her off to Bravos with some stranger that happens to wander in from the woods?"

"And what future do you think she will have if we force her to stay? You think she will make a good marriage when she will do everything she can to sabotage it?"

Catelyn opened her mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, and finally closed it once more. "I have been dreading this day since she was a girl" Catelyn breathed.

"So have I."

Cat sighed. "Alright! If we let her go to Bravos, she'll be over there a month or two and will learn that it isn't any better than her embroidery lessons and she'll come home." Cat sounded hopeful but the look on her face betrayed her words.

Eddard nodded dubiously.


	3. Chapter 3

The Departure

Arya Stark couldn't believe her luck, mother and father had finally relented and she was on her way to Bravos to learn the Water Dance.

"Not done packing yet?" Jon asked from the door.

"Septa told me to do it again, 'my things weren't properly folded' she said. Who cares if they're not folded, they're gonna get all messed up anyway. Watch this…" Arya looked at the direwolf at the bottom of the bed. "Nameria, gloves." The wolf tilted her head. Arya repeated her orders but the wolf stood still.

"Impressive." Jon smiled.

"Shut up."

"I have something for you, but it needs to be packed very carefully."

"A present?"

"Close the door." Jon brought his hands from behind his back and produced a long very thin sword. "This is no toy, be careful you don't cut yourself."

"It's so skinny." Arya admired the sword.

"So are you. I had the blacksmith make it special, I can't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."

"I can be quick." She smiled.

"How does it feel? Do you like the balance?"

Arya nodded. "I think so."

"I'm going to miss you." Arya sprang forward to embrace Jon. "Careful"

She smiled sheepishly and put the sword carefully down on the bed. "I'm going to miss you too." She muttered into his shoulder.

"All the best swords have names you know."

Arya considered this, looking at her sword. "Sansa can keep her sewing needles; I have a needle of my own."

Arya heaved the trunk off the bed; it clattered heavily to the ground. She heaved again and just managed to get it off the ground and no more.

She made her way quickly down the steps, the trunk hitting off every one, down the corridors and out of the castle.

"Sneaking out again?" Came Robb's voice.

She spun round and caught sight of her brother. "No, I'm…"

"I know." He interrupted, walking toward her. "Here, let me take that."

He bent to pick up the trunk, she pulled it away. "I can manage." He smiled and took it anyway.

"So, my little sister, off to Bravos to be a fighter?" He smiled.

"I'm going to be a knight" Arya said proudly.

"Well when you get back we'll have to arrange a tourney, fit for a knight." Said Robb, a hint of sadness in his smile. They walked in silence the rest of the way to the docks.


	4. Chapter 4

Royal Visit

The castle was awash with activity, amazing how a place can change when one is told the royal family is on its way. There wasn't a sole in Winterfell not running down corridors with baskets full of food and candles, barrels of wine.

Mother stood in the Great Hall directing the proceedings like a conductor at an orchestra. Arya laughed as she wound her way through the crowds and out to the yard. Several of father's soldiers were training in the corner by the outer wall. Arya walked over to the weapon's rack; only training weapons were stored here, the rest were in the armoury.

"They're here!" Bran said excitedly, running along the top of the wall before swinging down and landing in the mud.

"Who's here?" She asked

"The king, and the queen, and loads of other people." He ran off into the castle.

 _They're early._ "Bran!" She called back. He skidded to a halt and turned. "You better get cleaned up and dressed in the fine clothes mother looked out for you."

"Urgh." He scowled.

"I know I hate it too but there's no way we're getting out of this! Go on."

Arya sighed and walked across the courtyard and into the Main Hall where her mother was just finishing up. "They king is here mother." Catlyn made no response. "Mother. The king has arrived." She said louder.

"Seven Hells." Arya's eyebrows shot up at her mother's rare curse. "Alright, thank you Arya. Go and get dressed, I'll get the boys ready. And Arya, have the Septa do something with your hair."

"Yes mother." She muttered once she was out of earshot.

The entire Stark family was standing in line waiting to receive the incoming royal family - or at least almost all of them - Arya was flitting from one perch to another watching the entourage ride in, their golden armour glinting in the sunlight. Arya had to admit, they did look impressive.

She hopped down from the small carriage as they approached and ran back to join the family - not doubt Catlyn was panicking at her absence.

Several of the gold cloaks rode in ahead of the royal carriage and took up positions. Arya immediately recognised King Robert as he dismounted his horse. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the need for a step stool to help his dismount, she raised a smile. Also couldn't help but notice someone was missing. "Where's the imp?" She blurted out.

"Arya!" Her mother warned.

Robert strode forward and faced her father. "You've got fat." He said, after a moment's consideration.

She smiled at Eddard's _'you think I'm fat, take a look at you'_ nod.

Robert burst out laughing. "Ned! It's been too long. Cat." He hugged mother and moved along the line. "Ah Arya, the warrior of the family. I think you would fit in nicely among my kingsguard."

Arya noticed the shocked faces on her parents but chose to ignore them. "I appreciate the offer but I'm not willing to sign my life away protecting a fat old king." She said cheekily.

"How dare you call me a fat old king?" Robert looked affronted. Arya knew better. Robert pinched Arya's cheek, the corner of his mouth raising.

After Arya had returned from Bravos, she had travelled to King's Landing to put her new skills to use. Of course, at first Robert gave her a ceremonial role as his squire; no doubt at the behest of her father but it wasn't long before Arya turned her hand to a little freelance work and was starting to make a name for herself, in certain circles at least. Her father, of course, would only put up with it for so long before her freedom was stolen back and she was to make good on her promise. She, Arya Stark, was to become a real lady of Winterfell – in every way possible and she was not to complain or embarrass the great house of Stark.

Arya inwardly cringed at the memory and the ridiculous pomp and ceremony she had had to learn since coming home but it was the only way that her mother would allow her to go to Bravos and she had to admit – it was worth it. Even though she tasted bile in her mouth every time she spoke 'properly'.

The king turned back to Ned. "Ned, take me to the crypts, I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for a month, my love, surely the dead can wait." The queen spoke softly. Robert didn't even acknowledge her as he indicated to Ned again.

The company began to disperse as the king left.

 _Urgh, I can't wait for this day to be over_ Arya thought, trying to adjust her hair again, the million or so pins the Septa used to keep her hair in place were starting to make her head hurt but it still several hours before she could rip them out and get out of the ridiculous dress her mother made her wear.

At a bit of a loss as to what to do, Arya wandered around the castle but stopped when she saw Sansa out in the grounds - she was about to go over when she realised she was not alone. She was talking to the prince, Joffrey, was his name, they had never met him before but judging by the love struck look on Sansa's face, she wanted to get to know him better. Arya shook her head, _always the romantic_ , she didn't really see what Sansa was so attracted to; whenever she looked at Joffrey she saw a darkness that wasn't matched by many. She didn't voice these opinions of course, any hint of them and she would be beheaded for treason but that didn't stop her instinct. She worried for Sansa though, if Arya was right about this boy, she did not want her sister falling in love with him.

In the mean time though, she would give them their privacy. She wandered off again; maybe her brothers were doing something fun, _unlikely,_ she scoffed. There was hardly any fun to be had as long as the royal family were here and they all needed to be on their best behaviour.

A strange sound reached her ears, like someone whistling, she looked around for the source but couldn't find it. It seemed to be coming along the corridor ahead of her. Curious, she rounded the corner and saw the imp strolling merrily through the halls.

"Ah Lady Stark. My thanks for giving us room and board during our stay here." He said.

It didn't take a genius to hear the strain in the false pleasantries. "Lord Tyrion. You seem to be enjoying your stay here already. She smirked, having a very good idea where he had been for most of the morning. His reputation did proceed him, even this far north.

"Yes indeed. You have rather beautiful views here."

Arya smiled again. "You do us a great kindness, I'm sure the... views will appreciate your attention." Tyrion snickered. "Shall I see you at the feast this evening?"

"Oh yes, no doubt my brother Jaime will force... I mean, not let me miss such an event. And you my lady?"

Arya smirked. "No doubt my mother will do the same. Enjoy the rest of your day my lord." Arya bowed her head and strode off down the corridor Tyrion had just come from.

"And you my lady." He called back.

The light was beginning to fade which could only mean one thing; the Lannister's and Stark's were together under one roof for a night of 'pleasantries'. Arya wasn't convinced there would be much merriment in the hall this evening, considering the reason Robert was here in the first place. Of course Arya had figured out that Robert wanted father for something, she had thought to wage war but upon overhearing snippets of conversation between Ned and Catlyn, apparently he wanted father to replace the Hand that had been murdered, they suspect by the Lannisters. Arya wasn't sure which option was worse - to go to war or move into the lion's den, bringing Sansa and I with him. Arya sighed, damn Robert and his wish to join our two houses, Sansa of course was loving the idea, she was already picking names for her and Joffrey's future children! _And why do I have to go? If Sansa is marrying the prince, what use am I? I'm certainly not marrying anyone and I'm not joining Robert's goldcloaks._

The last thing Arya wanted to do was sit in a stuffy room, filled with too many people and the entire royal family; suddenly that all too familiar stern voice her mother used to berate her every time she did something wrong sprang to her mind. She knew that it would only be a few minutes before she set out looking for her, she sighed and reluctantly forced her limbs to move toward the Main Hall.

Robert didn't stay seated long; he was already drunk before he walked through the door and proceeded to spend the rest of the evening embarrassing himself by blatantly fondling the maids. Arya sighed and walked over to the window - it was too dark to see anything out of it but at least she was relatively hidden here, out of the prying eyes of the Lannisters; or perhaps not.

"Such a pleasant evening my lady, your family seem to be enjoying themselves." Tyrion said sarcastically.

She scoffed. "Almost as much as your family." She indicated the queen's glare at the king.

"Ah yes, if looks could kill. Wine?"

She took the offered wine skin. "My father must not find out about this." She said before taking a long mouthful from the skin.

"Not your first time?"

"Please, I was in Bravos for over a year and my father still thinks I have never done anything a young lady shouldn't."

Tyrion was intrigued. "And what things did you get up to in that sinful place?"

She smirked and winked. "The parties were much better there."

"How so?"

Arya considered it for a moment. "During the feast there were shows, the host would have arranged several performers to entertain us and then there would be dancing; the best would be in the middle and everyone else danced around them."

Tyrion smiled. "And there was wine?"

"Oh yes, barrels of it. One feast could lay waste to half the wine in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Well my lady, should you put on one of these feasts, it would be my honour to attend." He bowed his head and lifted his cup of wine before moving off into the crowd again.

She caught sight of her uncle Benjen talking to Robb, she smiled, it had been too long since she last saw him. She pushed off the wall and went to join him.

"Making friends with my brother?" Arya stopped; she didn't need to turn around to know who had cornered her this time. "Not quite right for you is he?"

She turned to face him. "What do you mean, my lord?" She asked innocently.

"Well I'm sure you've heard his reputation: with wine; with women. I wouldn't want the reputation of Ned Stark's flowering roses to be stained by that." Jaime said one corner of his mouth raised.

"Ah, your concern is much appreciated ser but I believe my reputation can withstand it." She began to move away but he was not done talking.

"What did the king mean?"

"Pardon?"

"When he asked you to join the goldcloaks, he seemed to be asking in earnest."

"Oh he was." She could tell Jaime was waiting for more but she was unsure as to how much to tell him.

"Ah yes, now I remember. The youngest Stark girl went off to Bravos to learn to be a knight." Sarcasm saturated every word.

"I did not learn to be a knight ser; anyone can learn to wear pretty armour, carry a sword and look good while doing it. _I_ went to Bravos to learn to dance - the Bravosi water dance from the First Sword of Bravos."

Jaime scoffed. "You won't kill a man by dancing around him."

"I might if I had a sword in my hand." She smiled, bowed a little and disappeared into the crowd.

The next morning, everything was quiet. More than a few people walked around holding their head in their hands and gingerly going about their day. Arya almost laughed; _the joys of not knowing when to stop._ That was another thing the Bravosi taught her; the westerners made themselves vulnerable by drinking too much and too often and this was the result; a castle full of barely functioning men.

After last night's festivities, she didn't expect many people to drag themselves out of bed until late afternoon, except of course the stable hands, the cooks and the guards already practising their sweeps and lunches in the yard. Arya stood and watched them for a while, normally she only watched because mother forbade her to join in ' _A lady does not play with swords, now go to you sewing lesson, you're already late!"_ _But mother isn't here._ The mischievous side of her brain piped in.

Giving in to temptation, she ran over to the men and picked up a training sword. "Anyone want to challenge me?" The men just looked at each other uncertain. "What? Afraid of being beaten by a girl?"

That did it. One of the men, she knew as Marius. He threw a few experimental jabs at her at first but once she parried them, he became more confident and landed faster and harder blows.

This wasn't exactly like her training in Bravos of course, nor anything like it really. She wasn't interested in exchanging blows like it was a conversation but it would do to keep her strength up in the mean time, the rest of the skills she needed to maintain, she would do when opportunity allowed. Although she had no idea when that opportunity would allow if she were to go to King's Landing.

Frustration at having to leave her home built up in her again and she took it out on Marius, careful not to reveal her Bravosi training - after all as her father had once said _'When I fight a man for real, I don't want him to know what I can do.'_

Arya was just getting into the training when suddenly Marius stopped and stepped back; confused she followed his eye and groaned.

"Impressive." The droll voice of Jamie Lannister floated across the yard. She said nothing, just stood there watching him walk so casually toward them like he owned the place. She clenched her teeth in annoyance that not only had her rare shot at real training been interrupted but that it had been interrupted to listen to his leering remarks. "Allow me."

Her brows furrowed in confusion as he undid the laces of his jacket at threw it onto the training sword rack. He looked down at the one in her hand.

"You can't cut a man's head off with that now can you?" He smirked, which Arya was beginning to realise was a near permanent expression on his face.

She watched as he picked up a real sword from the rack further down and threw it at her. She caught it and brought it up; she could tell he wasn't expecting her to catch it.

He moved into the middle of the yard to face her and drew his own sword, she immediately assumed the position.

They circled each other for some time before Jaime finally made a move, she blocked it. He came in with another two quick jabs and she deflected them too. He tried going low, then high, then quick combinations of the two but she blocked every one.

"You're going to have to attack me sometime, or did they not cover that in your dance." He quipped.

"That won't work on me." Arya said flatly.

"What won't work?"

"Goading me into attacking you just when you're ready for it."

He smiled; a genuine smile.

They circled again, she parried a few difficult blows, then came in for one of her own. She feigned a blow to the left, which he moved to block but Arya was already moving in from the right and caught him so close he had to jump to deflect the blow away before it hit. He smiled again.

They traded blow after blow, attacking, retreating, circling and attacking again. Nothing else existed beside Jaime and his sword, so focused was she that she didn't even notice the crowd gathered around them until she heard her name shouted from across the yard.

She winced, she knew it was her mother but there was no way she was about to take her eyes of Jaime and let him take the blow she was still holding back.

Jaime smiled and pulled back. Arya did the same and looked around, quickly finding her mother as the crowd parted to let her through. She glanced back at Jaime who was now collecting his discarded jacket, he turned and nodded to Arya, a hint of respect in his eyes.

"Arya, how many times have I told you..." She muttered. Arya held up her hand.

"I know what you're going to say mother and it doesn't matter, I will always be a fighter, I will never be like Sansa." Arya was about to turn around and replace the sword in her hand when something in the balcony above them caught her eye; long golden hair.

The crowd began to disperse when they found nothing new to hold their interest. Catlyn sighed. "I know that now, but why did you have to pick a fight with Jaime Lannister? You could have been killed or hurt, he's the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms."

"First, I didn't pick anything with him, he saw me training and made himself a part of it. Second, it was not a fight, only sparring, we weren't trying to hurt each other."

"Maybe you weren't." Catlyn mumbled as she walked away but it was loud enough for Arya to hear.

Arya frowned, not understanding Catlyn's sudden suspicion of the Lannisters.


	5. Chapter 5

Then It All Changed

 _How can this be happening? How can these people believe father is a traitor? He's Robert's best friend!_

 _But Robert is dead and if the rumours are true, father conspired to kidnap Joffrey._

 _That's ridiculous, why would Ned Stark kidnap the prince?_

 _What did he find out?_

Arya's heart froze as the Queen, the King, Sansa and... Ilyn Payne, the royal executioner? _They can't really be going to kill him. They can't!_

The crowd fell silent as the royals took their seats on the platform. Their heads turned to a man, hunched over double with matted hair being helped up the steps onto the platform.

Arya nearly let go of the statue she was holding when he shakily lifted his head. It was her father, certainly but it wasn't him - he looked so much older, his skin pale as death. _What happened to him?_ He was clearly still in a lot of pain from his leg wound, anger boiled in Arya at the cowardice of that Lannister guard. Striking a man while his back is turned. There was no honour in what he did, if only she had seen his face.

Arya looked to Sansa standing stock still, a little removed from the royal family. She almost looked relaxed. _Does she know something? Has she done something? She is betrothed to the King, could she save father?_

His voice, quiet but strong filled the air." I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. I come before you to confess my treason _in the sight of Gods_ _and men._ _I betrayed the faith_ _of my King_ and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children, but before his blood was cold _I plotted to murder his son_ _..._ And seize the Throne for myself."

 _It's a lie, father would never betray Robert! What have they done to him?_ Arya's anger rose.

"My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join The Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And My Lady Sansa _has begged mercy for her father." Arya looked up, hope rising in her chest_. "But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, _treason shall never go unpunished._ Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

 _NO!_

Ser Ilyn raised her father's sword high into the air. Arya couldn't breath, couldn't move. Just stood there staring at her father, her heart screaming.

Someone had a hold of her, pressed her face into a mail shirt.

She heard a rush of air. Then a thump. The crowd screamed, or was it her screaming? She didn't know.

In that moment, her world collapsed.

The next few moments, hours, days went by largely unnoticed by Arya. Although she hadn't seen it, she had heard it. It kept replaying in her head over and over again.

The grief nearly overwhelmed her, not just for her father but for her mother and brothers back in Winterfell and for the sister she left behind. In the hands of those responsible.

The wagon stopped in another depressing woodland and everyone piled out again. She had no idea how long ago they left King's Landing. All she knew was that she was heading home - or at least back to the North.

Her grief had subsided a little in the last few days, she was able to think again, about what she left behind - a happy family in Winterfell, safe, full of opportunities, an adventure waiting to happen.

This was not the adventure she had in mind.

 _It was the Lannister's - if they hadn't come to Winterfell, none of this would have happened. Father would never betray Robert, they lied. The Lannisters are liars and they killed my father to hide their lies._

 _The Lannisters will pay._

 _First they cripple Bran. They kill father. They hold Sansa captive. And now they are looking for me._

 _They will never find me._

 _When I'm ready, I will find them._

 _Joffrey, Cersei, Ilyn Payne._


	6. Chapter 6

Harenhall

"He's dead. He was my son. My sister was three days ago. My husband the day before that."

 _I am a nameless girl, I am a nameless girl._ She felt her face change, no-one must ever know she is Arya Stark of Winterfell. It's time to put that name away.

The louder the boy's scream grew the higher Arya Stark's anger grew; true and just rage was only seconds away. Arya could feel herself shaking with rage, she was only vaguely aware of her hand reaching for her blade when the boy's eyes went wide and his screams stopped.

Before Arya could make another move, the sound of horses' hooves drew the attention of their torturers. In rode Tywin Lannister himself and his men.

"What's this?" He asked, dismounting his horse

"We weren't expecting you until tomorrow, Lord Tywin." The mountain replied. Arya was always surprised to learn that it could speak.

"Evidently not. Why aren't these prisoners in their cells?"

"Cells are overflowing, my lord."

"Don't need no permanent place, they won't be here long. After we interrogate them, we usually just…" Polliver indicated the row of severed heads above the cage.

"Are we so well manned that we can afford that we can afford to discard able young hands and skilled labourers?" The guard stared dumbly at Tywin.

He walked over to Gendry. "You? You have a trade?"

"Smith, my lord." Gendry replied. Tywin stared incredulous at him men, they avoided eye contact with him.

"What you looking at?" The guard made to hit Arya with his club. He drew his sword "Kneel or I'll carve your lungs out boy."

"You'll do no such thing. This one's a girl, you idiot, dressed as a boy. Why?" Tywin addressed her.

"Safer to travel, my lord."

He leaned in. "Smart. More than I can say for this lot." He looked round to his men and walked out past the Mountain. "Get these prisoners to work. Bring the girl; I need a new cup bearer."

Arya smiled. _This is my way out of here and my way of tipping the balance in Robb's favour_.

The Tickler unbarred the gate and let Arya out, she followed quietly behind Tywin up to the council chambers. Immediately he called his men to order, they piled in the door and sat down, not once looking at the little serving girl in the corner.

 _Too much red, not my kind of red_

 _Cersei, Joffrey, Ilyn Payne, The Hound, Meryn, The Mountain, The Tickler, Polliver,_

 _Ha! I'm free, now to set to work._ Arya already had a plan on how to kill Polliver and get Needle back. She walked over to the Smelter where Gendry had officially been posted and picked up a red hot poker from the fire; she smiled at it. Hiding the poker as safely as she could by her leg, she went in search of Polliver. Predictably he was sitting alone under the cover of the stone balcony and eating a foul smelling paste. He didn't even look up when she approached, too engrossed in whatever he was eating. She wasted no time, brought up the poker and rammed it down his throat with as much strength as she could manage. He didn't have a chance to utter a word or even scream as his mouth cooked.

Arya tried to pull the poker out again but it was stuck; she pulled again, it still didn't move. Finally she placed her foot on his chest as hauled, this time it came and brought a part of his tongue with it.

Arya grimaced and tried flicking it off but it wouldn't budge; she had to get away from here before she drew attention to herself. Bending down, she grabbed Needle and threw the poker into the bushes, smiling at having her Needle back.

"And I'm sure if those same spies snuck into our own encampments, they would report growing discontent amongst the southern lords. This is war; No one's content. We've underestimated the Stark boy for too long. He has a good mind for warfare, his men worship him. And as long as he keeps winning battles, they'll keep believing he is King in the North. You've been waiting for him to fail. He is not going to fail, not without our help. So how do we stop him?" Said Tywin, looking to his men for an answer.

 _"_ We've worked through the night, My Lord. Perhaps we'd profit from some sleep." Reginald Lannister was the first to reply.

"As I think you would, Reginald. And because you're my cousin, I might even let you wake from that sleep. Go, I'm sure your wife must miss you."

"My wife's in Lannisport."

"Well, then you'd better start riding. Go before I change my mind and send her your head. If your name wasn't Lannister, you'd be scrubbing out pots in the cook's tent. Go!" Reginald stood hesitantly and left the room. Arya smiled at the exchange, she had to admit, the way Tywin dealt with his men impressed and amused her. She inwardly shook her head - she couldn't think like that - not with what she was planning to do.

Arya went to pour wine into Tywin's cup. "Not wine, water. We'll be here for some time." She nodded and moved back to the table with the food and drink. "Girl. Where are you from?" She flinched

"Maidenpool, My Lord." Saying the first southern household she could think of.

"And who are the Lords of Maidenpool? Remind me."

"House Mooton, My Lord."

"And what is their Sigil?" Arya thought hard but could not picture the Sigil of their house, her heart began to pound. _This is it, he's going to find out who I am and send me back to the tickler._ "A red salmon. I think a Maidenpool girl would remember that. You're a northerner, aren't you?"

Arya nodded, nothing else to do now.

"Good. One more time, where are you from?"

"Barrowton, My Lord. House Dustin. Two crossed long axes beneath a black crown." Arya prayed he would believe that.

"And what do they say of Robb Stark in the North?

"They call him the young wolf."

"And?"

"They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant Direwolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself when he wants. They say he can't be killed." Arya couldn't help the smile of pride at the thought of her brother unable to die.

"And do you believe them?"

The smile faded, to be replaced with a darker look that she levelled at Tywin. "No, My Lord. Anyone can be killed."

They stared at each other, unblinking.

"Fetch that water." He finally said.

Now that she had needle, it was time to take out The Tickler. She had seen him several times since Tywin took her; the first few times he glared at her but now he just ignored her.

Arya was beginning to like this castle, it had so many nooks, cranny's and crevices - perfect to hide things - like a particularly skinny blade. She found one such crevice near the particular spot that The Tickler liked to stand - overlooking the pens down below. The severed heads of his previous victims were still there; it was almost like he was admiring his handy work.

Arya was going to put a stop to that. Arya held the empty jug she had taken from the council chambers tightly, in case her plan didn't work she would have an excuse to be around here.

She was in luck though, The Tickler stood alone, eating a pear and looking down to the pens mournfully. He didn't look up as she passed, without hesitation she grabbed the sword from the crevice and plunged it into his neck. He froze there, uncomprehending; she heard footsteps coming the other way. She withdrew the sword and kicked him through the arch and into the courtyard; a woman screamed. Arya stowed the bloody sword in the crevice again and calmly walked down to the water barrel, mere feet from The Tickler's prone body.

It was certainly strange, spending this much time with Tywin, she absolutely hated him of course since his son crippled her brother, his grandson murdered her father. She hadn't had a good night's sleep since it happened, but she had to admit, she was beginning to admire this man; the presence he commanded was very real and powerful.

"Can you read?" Tywin asked Amory Lorch.

"My Lord?"

Can you read? This letter detailing our infantry movements was meant for Lord Damon of House Marbrand. It was sent to Lord Marlyn of House Dormand."

"My apologies, My Lord. I must have ..."

"Girl, fetch me the "History of the Greater and the Lesser Houses. It's the one on the ..." He broke off when Arya had the book in her hand. "My cupbearer can read better than you. To whom does House Dormand owe allegiance?"

"My Lord, I ..."

"To the Starks of Winterfell! Who have 20,000 men and my son!" Tywin shouted. "I judged you might be good for something more than brutalizing peasants. I see I overestimated you.

Tywin stood "If you ever put my son's life at risk again, I'll..."

Tywin ordered his men out the room "Put the book away, girl. Maybe you should devise our next battle plan while you're about it." Tywin said, Arya smiled as she took the book back to the side of the room. _Why am I smiling? He just joked about me devising a battle plan against Robb!_ Arya cursed herself for her weakness; if she were to have any hope of helping Robb and being the water dancer she was trained to be, she could not see her enemies as human.

"Who taught you to read?" Tywin asked

"My father, My Lord"

"Hmm. I taught my son Jaime to read. The Maester came to me one day, told me he wasn't learning. He couldn't make sense of the letters. He reversed them in his head. The Maester said he'd heard tell of this affliction and that we simply must accept it. Ha! After that, I sat Jaime down for four hours every day until he learned. He hated me for it, for a time. For a long time, but he learned. Where is your father? Is he alive? Who was he?"

 _Why is he doing this? Why is he telling me this? I'm just a cupbearer - or so he thinks._ Tywin couldn't have told many people that story.

The room she had been assigned was tiny, barely large enough to accommodate the bed and a small side table but at least she had it to herself. She sat hunched over on the bed whittling away at small pieces of twig, fashioning them into a point. The nine others she had just finished were sitting on the table next to the small bowl and bent spoon she had been using to crush ingredients together. What she had in that bowl could kill a man in a few seconds if it entered the blood stream. It wouldn't be long now before she was ready to make her move, she just needed to speak to Hot Pie and Gendry - they had left King's Landing together, it didn't seem right to escape from this place and leave them behind.

She needed to make her move now, it was starting to get dangerous for her here. She needed Lannister armour fist off all or she could never move around here freely. The armoury was too well guarded for her to sneak in and steal some but she had found the smallest Lannister soldier in Harrenhal, he was almost the same height as her; the armour wouldn't fit comfortably but she could make it work long enough. She had her darts and her poison - wolfs bane, now it was time to move.

It was early morning but still several hours before anyone would likely need a cupbearer. Arya followed the guard to his chambers and waited until she could hear his snoring behind the door. Then she undid the latch, praying that it was not an old and rusty one like most in the burn out shell of a castle.

It screeched a little but thankfully not enough to wake the sleeping man. She breathed a sigh of relief; the familiar red armour was discarded in the corner of the room. He obviously doesn't take as much care as you should with your armour, oh well, he won't be burdened with it much longer.

Arya tipped toed over to the sleeping man and pulled out the small hollow tube and a single dart, a red feather tied on the end. She loaded the dart into the shooter and bent over the man's neck.

Taking a deep breath she blew hard. There was no sound as the dart entered his neck but he did flinch a little, he wouldn't wake up again.

She stowed the shooter and took back the dart but froze as she turned back to the door, she could hear heavy footsteps coming down the corridor. She cursed under her breath, _the one day someone comes to check on him_. Arya couldn't believe her luck.

She ran to the corner of the room and crouched down behind the breast plate of armour. She was even more dumbfounded when she realised it was Amory Lorch. He walked into the room, obviously thinking this person was sleeping, his face paled when he could not wake him.

Arya tried to crouch even lower behind the pile of armour but it was no use, Amory Lorch saw her and shouted for a guard to wait outside the door while he went to fetch Tywin. _Dammit_ Arya cursed.

Arya ran to the window, it was a high fall but she could see craggy outcrops in the rock. She quickly threw the armour out the window and jumped from outcrop to outcrop as fast as she could. She stashed the armour down as small ditch and raced through the castle - she knew all the shortcuts since Tywin did not like to be kept waiting when he order his cupbearer to fetch something.

She ran down the narrow passage ways to Tywin's council chambers, pulling out the shooter and a dart at the same time. Amory Lorch was just opening the door to the council chamber when she rounded on him and fired a dart into his neck, she turned and darted away before he even landed.

Arya crouched down in the tiny tunnel, breathing heavily, whether from exertion or panic she couldn't tell; she had to be completely calm before anyone could see her but she couldn't stay hidden forever. Arya put her Bravos training into action to calm her nerves.

A few moments later she was ready, it wouldn't be safe to go back to the armour now but she was relatively sure it would be safe there. In fact with Amory Lorch dying the way he had it might actually turn attention away from the first man - they would think it was an attempt on Tywin's life. Arya almost laughed at that fortunate turn of events.

 _Tywin is leaving! Now is my time to act, just after he's gone when the guards are relaxed._

"You're sure you're clear on the plan?" She asked for the third time.

"Arry, the plan is to meet you here at midnight, there's not really much to it." Gendry replied exasperated.

"Right, well when things start happening, we need to move fast so be ready."

Once Tywin decided something, it wasn't long before he acted on it. Arya watched him ride out with the same company of men that he rode in with - off to King's Landing to take his seat by his family - minus Jaime of course.

Just as Arya suspected, there was a marked change in the attitudes of the guards as soon as Tywin left - they didn't stand to attention ever vigilant; some of them barely even moved, others were too engrossed in their betting games. She was relieved, it would have made this job near impossible had Tywin been here - of course if he hadn't it would have been near impossible for her to escape the tickler.

Armed with her little shooter and several poison tipped darts, she made her move under the cover of darkness. She didn't meet many people between her chamber and the balcony thankfully; she needed to take these guards out completely silently.

At the top of the stairs she slowed to a crawl, from what she had seen since being Tywin's cupbearer; there were always two guards on the balcony - one being just around the corner and the other around the other corner just beyond. Peaking her head around she could see them both, the one closest was sitting on a barrel a bottle in his hand. _Easy pickings_. She loaded a dart into the shooter and brought it to her lips.

There wasn't a sound in the castle as the drunken guard died; she rushed forward as he was about to fall off the barrel and propped him back up, placing his now limp arm around the bottle on his lap. Anyone coming by would think he fell into a drunken sleep.

Now to deal with the other one. Crouching down below the level of the arches, she ran to the other corner and waited. This guard tended to walk up and down so when he was closest to her; that's when she would strike.

She readied her shooter again; reminding herself to keep her nerve - he couldn't see her, even if he looked directly at her, it was too dark to make anything out as long as she stayed still. He was almost close enough now, just a few more steps and that would be it. Her heart was pounding but she remained still, _calm as still water, swift as a deer_. She fired, he spasmed and fell. Arya did her best to break his fall but his armour did make a loud scraping sound as it crashed onto stone. She froze in place hoping none of the other guards heard.

She didn't hear a shout or any armoured boots climbing the stairs. After what felt like minutes, she peeked her head out over the arches. All the guards were still in their places, no-one seemed to be moving around too much. She let out the breath she didn't even know she was holding; _two down, only four to go._

Arya left the dead guard where he lay and descended the stairs and ran half-way along the courtyard when something caught her eye by the blacksmith's yard. She could only just see it in the flames but it was unmistakable; a bow and a full quiver of arrows. _Thank you Gendry_ she thought, stowing her makeshift shooter and racing over.

Arya had always been a good archer, even before she left fro Bravos, it felt good to have one in her hands again. Although it was dark and she had a bow Arya wanted to be as close as possible to the men she was going to kill so they wouldn't have the time to even see the arrow coming let alone raise the alarm.

She ran along under the balcony but came to a stop just before the end. Bow in hand, she pulled the string back a few times, testing it - satisfied she knocked an arrow in, took aim and fired.

She didn't bother to watch the arrow - she knew as soon as it left the bow that it would find it's mark. She moved onto the one of the far side of the gate - a harder shot, no doubt but still possible. She took a little longer this time, not wanting to risk a miss but if she waited too long, he would notice this guard dying.

She relaxed her fingers and the arrow was away. The other two guards on the wall above were dead before the second guard hit the ground. She relaxed and ran back to where Hot Pie and Gendry should be waiting for her.

"You ready?" She asked as she approached them.

"Yeah." Gendry replied, Hot Pie just nodded dumbly, jaw hanging open.

The three jumped up and ran out of Harrenhal as fast as their legs would take them.


	7. Chapter 7

Jaime part 1

The Flayed Man of House Bolton _, my brother's banner men_ Arya scoffed; there was no way she was stupid enough to believe the Bolton's were loyal to anyone. It worried her that Robb kept council with the Bolton's, but what choice did he have? He needed the Bolton's for their men otherwise he would never have gotten this far in the war and he and mother would face the same fate as father.

Arya watched from cover atop a large tree as the men on horse back rode two abreast along the mud pit that was a road. She had heard a scream the night before when she was out hunting for food and was sure it had come from this direction; wouldn't surprise her at all with the Bolton's reputation.

 _They have a woman!_ Arya prayed for her; a woman in the company of Bolton men - she didn't want to imagine the horrors they would have planned for her. Then her eyes were drawn to someone else; a man, barely clinging to his horse, filthy and pale, his hair matted to his head with dirt and a hand hung around his neck bouncing repeatedly off his chest. _Must be the man that screamed, he's going to fall off his horse and no-one cares._

"He's going to fall! He's going to fall off his horse, someone help him." The woman shouted. No-one moved, only turned in time to see him slide off and hit the deepest pile of mud and who knows what else. He didn't even try to break his fall. Arya saw him reach for a weapon with his other hand, from his stance she could tell he was an experienced sword fighter - unfortunately for him, few people ever learn to fight with their other hand. True enough the man tried to swipe several men that had gathered around him but he was no match for them. Five men surrounded him, toyed with him and knocked him to the ground yelling "Kingslayer!"

 _Kingslayer? Jaime Lannister?_ Arya didn't even recognise him, not that it was any easier now that he was covered in mud, she had heard that he escaped from Robb and the Bolton's were hunting him. _Looks like they found him, but who is that woman?_

Arya continued to watch as Bolton's men hauled Jaime back onto his horse and proceed on. She hated Lannisters, there was no question about that but watching this… No-one should have to go through this; they've broken him. No even when he was a captive of Robb Stark was he treated even close to this and you'd be hard pressed to find a family that hated the Lannisters more than the Starks.

 _He's still a Lannister - he pushed Bran from a window and crippled him! Valar morghulis - all men must die, especially Lannisters._

Arya followed the band of men silently, come nightfall they made camp nearby - not easy to travel with wounded.

"Eat." She threw him a lump of bread, he made no attempt to catch it." What are you doing?" The female said.

"I'm dying." He whispered.

 _Seven Hells_

"You can't die. You need to live to take revenge."

"I don't care about revenge."

"You coward. A little misfortune and you're giving up."

"Misfor ... misfortune?"

"You lost your hand." The woman was getting angry

"My sword hand. I was that hand."

"You have a taste ... one taste of the real world where people have important things taken from them and you whine and cry and quit. You sound like a bloody woman." She looked down, a glazed look in her eye. "I know what you did for me. You told them Tarth was full of sapphires. It's called the Sapphire Isle because of the blue of its water. You knew that. Why did you help me?"

Arya smiled; she liked this woman. _At least this woman is looking out for him. Wait! What? What do I care if a Lannister dies?_

 _It's not just_ if _a Lannister dies its_ how _. This isn't right._

Every life Arya has taken has been quick, that was how she was taught; grant death quickly, do not let men suffer. There is no honour in torture.

Even as Arya was debating with herself, she found herself climbing down from her perch and moving toward the camp. Most of the men were already asleep or clustered around the fire, eating and drinking.

She approached the sleeping men, _quiet as shadow, swift as a deer, calm as still water_ ; she recited Syrio's words in her head.

Only when she was inches away from her first man did she slam her hand down over his mouth and plunge her dagger deep into his neck and slice across. Blood sprayed out of the gash in his neck as Arya quickly moved him over and let the ground soak it in. It wasn't long before the man stopped jerking and lay still; she looked around at the other sleepers and drinkers further off. No-one made any move to come after her; she smiled and moved to the next sleeper.

Lord Bolton would certainly not be impressed with the relative ease in which she picked off his men.

From the rancid smell coming from their breaths, many if not all, of these men were drunk! Obviously catching and maiming Jamie Lannister was excuse enough to disregard their training and drink themselves into oblivion!

 _Honestly! They only posted two guards! Two?!_

As Arya made her way around the sleepers, the dying embers of the fire keeping her hidden, she pulled out her bow, drew an arrow and fired. Without stopping, she pulled another and shot the second guard, just as she had done in Harrenhal. Without Syrio's training, she would never have thought it possible to take down two men before the first man had even hit the ground but he had been right. Although these men were on the lookout for danger, they never actually expected danger to come and their reaction time was so slow that by the time the second guard realised his companion was dead, an arrow was already flying through the air for him.

Once all the sleepers were dead, she circled the drinkers, two of them had already drifted off to sleep by the fire, another was hugging a nearby tree taking a piss. That left two more by the dwindling fire, not long now until it went out and she could take care of the rest.

The pisser returned, staggering and finally falling over away from the embers, immediately passing out. Arya swiftly made her way over to him; looked over to the other four; satisfied that they would not see her, she dispatched another of the Bolton men.

Soon every man lay dead bar one - the man Arya assumed, by his dress, was their leader and most likely the man responsible for cutting off Jaime's hand. She would let him live, to report back to Lord Bolton. Arya stood and admired her handy work - an ordinary scene from the road; a very different one when the sun rose.

 _Now comes the difficult bit_. She turned to the woman and Jaime, asleep far from the now dead and bloodless men. She figured it would be safest to wake the woman first; she would need help getting Jaime onto a horse.

Slowly she walked over to the woman, propped up against a tree. In one swift movement she grabbed the woman from behind and clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Relax; I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you. I'm going to take my hand away now and you're not going to scream OK?" The woman nodded, Arya removed her hand.

"Who are you? Did someone send you?" The woman asked looking around

"It doesn't matter. Wake him up; we need to get out of here."

"You have somewhere for us to go?"

Arya nodded. The woman crawled over to Jaime and gently shook him awake. Arya untied three horses from a nearby tree and brought them over.

"Who are you? Did my father send you?" Jaime asked, she ignored him. The woman half carried, half dragged Jaime to the horse and pushed him on.

"Follow me" Said Arya once all three were securely on their horses.

"Where are you taking us?" The woman asked getting suspicious.

"It's not far."

"Won't those men come after us?"

"No." The woman stopped the questioning and looked away, though clearly dying to know more.

Arya sighed. "Who are you? And why are you travelling with Jaime Lannister?"

If Jaime was surprised that the girl knew him he didn't show it. "I was charged with bringing the Kingslayer to Kings Landing."

"Why?"

"His life in exchange for Lady Catelyn's daughters." Arya started at the sound of her mother's name - she wore her usual disguise of some faceless peasant boy; not the face of Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell. Not that this woman would recognise her if she were herself - but Jaime might.

"You're in the employ of Catelyn Stark? Who are you? I've never seen you before."

"I am Brienne of Tarth. Lady Catelyn employed my services after Renly Baratheon's death"

"And what services' did you provide Renly?"

"I was a member of his King's Guard"

"I heard you killed Renly."

"I did not! It was Stannis!"

"Stannis? How could Stannis get into Renly's camp, where his entire army was garrisoned, get into his tent and kill him with a member of his King's Guard there to protect him?" Arya asked with fake incredulity. _Stannis has never been to Bravos; never learned to change his face; has he?_

"It was his shadow in the tent." Brienne said, less forcefully.

"His shadow?" She wasn't expecting that; _Stannis can control light? No, it couldn't be him – someone else._

"Yes, it just came into the tent and put a sword through Renly's chest."

"Wait, was this a real shadow that moved across the floor or was it more… solid than that?"

Brienne gave her a strange look before replying. "It was like a man but not as solid as a man." Brienne let out a long breath, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

Arya nodded. "I believe you." Brienne's head shot up and looked onto Arya's "Stannis didn't do this; it was the Red Woman everyone talks about. Her power is real."

"What power? What else can she do?"

Arya was prevented from answering when Jaime suddenly slouched forward on his horse and Brienne lunged for him. Arya manoeuvred her horse to his other side to help prop him up.

"We need to hurry."

"What's wrong with him?"

"His wound is infected, if I don't clean it soon, he'll loose more than a hand."


	8. Chapter 8

Jaime Part 2

 _I see a darkness in you. And in that darkness, eyes staring back at me- brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes. Eyes you'll shut forever. We will meet again._

That Red Woman unnerved her. Arya knew better than anyone the kind of power the Lord of Light had, she had no idea what his intentions were but judging by what she saw while with the Brotherhood Without Banners, she knew she didn't want to find herself in the middle of it.

That's why she rode off at the first chance she got, and now found herself here - alone in the Riverlands. Well, not alone anymore.

They slowed their horses to a walk as they approached the handful of little wooden chalets, placed randomly within the cluster of other chalets. Jaime was still slumped over in his horse which would hopefully prevent him from being recognised by any curious villagers.

"What is this place?" Brienne asked; not sure whether to be disgusted or relieved at the shabby state.

"One of a few villages around Saltpans; they rely on themselves mostly but trade what they can. It's too small for most people to even bother passing through" Arya lead the two to a small drab looking hut, sitting off to the side at the opposite end of the village.

She got off the horse and brought it around the back of the house; only now did Brienne notice the wooden extension to the back of the house.

"Winter's get cold here, sometimes you need to bring the horses inside or they'll freeze." Arya explained in response to Brienne's quizzical look. "Help me with him, then bring the horses inside and tend to them."

Carefully Brienne and Arya managed to get Jaime off the horse and onto the only bed in the small hut. Arya immediately began unwrapping the filthy bandages around Jaime's stump, while Brienne went back out.

Despite how slowly Arya was unwrapping the bandages, taking extra care when they stuck, Jaime still moaned in pain.

Finally free of its bindings, Arya could see the true extent of the damage done to Jaime. Although whoever did this had closed the wound, probably with a red hot blade, it had done nothing to stop the infection.

"Wha's wrong?" Jaime mumbled, delirious with fever.

"The wound is corrupted, I need to cut away the dead parts. It would be easier just to take the arm but…"

"No." Jaime replied, more forceful this time.

"Didn't think so."

"You're going to need Milk of the Poppy."

"No."

"This is going to hurt."

"Then I'll scream."

"Tremendously."

"I'll scream loudly."

Arya sighed. "If you don't take the Milk, then pain will be so bad that you'll pass out, so you can either take it now and pass out or you don't and pass out later. Either way you'll be unconscious while under my charge."

"Fine."

"You'll take it?"

Jaime nodded and Arya went to the cupboard as Brienne was finishing with the horses. She helped prop Jaime up while Arya poured the elixir into his mouth.

A few minutes later and Arya was ready to work. "You sure you want to be here to see this?"

"I have a strong stomach."

"You'll need it." Arya returned her attention to the foul smelling stump and began to cut away as quickly and accurately as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Brienne shifting uncomfortably next to her.

"So, how do you know how to do this?" She asked as a means to keep her mind from wandering too far into what Arya was doing.

"The Bravosi taught me how to stay alive, after they taught me how to kill people." Arya replied deadpan.

Brienne hesitated. "Who are you? You don't sound Bravosi."

"I was born in Westeros. Who I am doesn't matter - I am no-one."

"What will I call you then?"

Arya stopped and thought about that for a moment. Normally she made up a name and background for all the faces she wore but not this one; this one was specifically anyone, a nameless girl.

"Call me Arry." She knew it was risky using a name so close to her own but it was the first thing that came to mind. She had never even considered making a name for this face – the whole point that it wasn't a real person, just a random peasant… Now called Arry. "Go into that cupboard over there, bring out the mortar and pestle; then go into the drawer below and bring out leaves of the Sourleaf plant, Kingscopper, and some Sentinal needles. You know what they look like?"

"Yes." Brienne rushed over to the cupboard and pulled out the necessary ingredients.

"Crush them into powder" When Arya was convinced she had cut away enough of the corruption, she began cutting strips of linen to be used as bandages, occasionally checking on Brienne's progress with the leaves.

"Done." Brienne announced, handing over the mortar and pestle.

"Good." Arya poured the remainder of the Milk of the Poppy and mixed the ingredients well. "Hold this."

She instructed Brienne to hold the potion while Arya took the small pieces of linen and soaked them in the liquid; squeezing the excess out, she placed it on the end of Jaime's stump then went to the next one. Building up a thick layer of potion soaked bandages on the end and around the wrist. Finally she used the last few dry strips and wrapped them around, securing them tightly.

"This should prevent the corruption from taking hold again." Said Arya, walking over to the metal bowl full of water and scrubbing her hands.

"Thank you for doing this." Brienne said quietly behind her.

Arya half looked at her, opened her mouth to speak but nodded instead. "There's a tub in the corner if you want to wash - you can take it in the next room unless you don't want to wash alongside the horses."

"No, it's fine, thank you." Brienne picked up the tub and with a last look at Jaime, still unconscious on the bed, disappeared into the next room.

Arya fished out two clean rags, soaked them in cold water and knelt back down at Jaime's side. She placed the rags around his left wrist and across his forehead to cool him. She couldn't help but wander what would happen now; how Tywin would react when he sees his eldest son - his favourite son - maimed like this; how would Cersei react; what would he do now?

 _Who cares? He can't kill my family anymore, but maybe he can get Sansa_

"Why did you save us? Not many people would risk their lives for…him, unless you plan to ransom him back to his father." Brienne asked from across the table opposite Jaime's bed. The sun had gone down almost an hour ago and the three candles were the only thing lighting up the small room.

"I have no interest in Tywin's money"

"Then why are you doing this?"

Arya shrugged. "The screaming and pounding horses were disrupting my peace." Sarcasm dripped off every word. Brienne chuckled. "You do realise that Tywin will never hand over Lady Stark's daughters – even with Jamie in toe."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Tywin doesn't have both daughters – one of them escaped and she is far too valuable to him to hand over, regardless of whatever deal has been struck."

"What do you mean, he only has one? Who escaped? How? Is she still alive?"

Arya held up a hand to stop the rapid fire questions Brienne was obviously building up to. "Arya Stark, Sansa's younger sister made it out of King's Landing before the gates were sealed. She is still alive but no-one knows where she is."

"Well I have to find her! We have to get Jamie back to King's Landing, get Sansa and then I must find Arya." Brienne sounded determined.

"Why do you need to find her?" Arya was suspicious of course but so far was not sensing any hostility in Brienne.

"I swore an oath to Lady Catlyn that I would find her daughters and bring them back to her… safely." Brienne straightened, proud.

Arya nodded. "And you believe you can do that, do you?"

"I won't rest until I find them! I'd die before I broke my oath"

"You never mention yourself much, it's always Jaime this, Kingslayer that. You don't seem to have much regard for your own life."

"I guess I don't." Now Brienne was looking uncomfortable.

"Sounds like quite a story behind that."

"Maybe one day I'll tell you."

"And maybe one day I'll tell you mine."

With that an amiable silence fell between the two, broken only by Jaime's mumblings. Arya stood and reached for her bow and arrows.

"What are you doing?" Brienne asked, now on full alert; clearly not over her suspicions just yet.

"I'm going hunting; he'll be awake soon." Arya pulled a thick pelt over her head and slipped out the back.

The cold air whipped across her face, taking her breath away. _Winter is definitely here._ Pulling the pelt tighter around herself she swiftly ran off into the woods in search of game; wild animals roaming the forests was becoming a luxury in some parts of Westeros, the parts most heavily involved in the war - been hunted clean by countless soldiers. Luckily the Saltpans was far removed from all of that; that's why she picked this place; no-one came here unless they had a reason to come here. Less likely to run into a Lannister patrol, or worse a Stark patrol. She had to be weary of everyone now that she was harbouring Jaime Lannister. _How are we to get to King's Landing without getting caught?_

Arya chastised herself again; _why am I making their problems my problems? Gods be good, I have enough problems of my own already; like how to get Sansa back. This Brienne may think that Tywin would hand over Sansa in exchange for Jaime but where's his incentive? She's just walked his son through his front door. I can't see The Great Tywin Lannister bowing to the demands of one woman._

Arya's attention was drawn by movement just up ahead; she ducked low behind a rock and readied her bow. The little rabbit took its last step as an arrow pierced its eye. Collecting the body and retrieving the arrow, Arya went off looking for more.

She returned to the cabin an hour and a half later with 4 skinned rabbits and a small pile of firewood. Jaime was awake when she returned, dumping the rabbits on the table and preparing a fire in the hearth.

"Thank you…for saving me." Jaime whispered. Arya froze; a log midway to the hearth. She half turned.

"Yeah… Sure." Arya replied awkwardly, completely taken aback by his sudden kindness. This was certainly nothing like the man she had known in Winterfell. _It's only temporary; nothing can keep Jaime's arrogance at bay for long - not even loosing his sword hand._

"Is there a tub I can have a bath in?" Jaime spoke again.

"Yes, it's in the corner." Arya looked at Brienne, who stood and took the tub through the back and pumped water into the tub.

The fire, no longer needed attending, and immediately warmed the room. Jaime laboriously sat up in the bed and swung his legs down, Arya stood by the fire; unsure whether to help Jaime to his feet or let him retain whatever scrap of dignity he had left.

With, what was obviously a huge effort; Jaime pushed off the bed with his left hand but was not quite strong enough to get all the way up; lost his balance and began falling to the right, acting on instinct he put his right arm out to break his fall. Arya rushed forward and grabbed him before he could land on his stump.

Jaime paused, staring at what should have been his hand. "Thanks." He made no move to resist her help and she dragged him to his feet and held him steady.

"Help me out of these rags." Gingerly she pulled the filthy, discoloured tunic over his head and around his arm. He undid his own breeches while Arya threw the tunic in a pile in the corner. _He can't put those back on. There might be some clothes left in that old house, three doors down._ The family of four that lived there had long since abandoned the place and it was mostly used for squatters but sometimes people left things - like clothes and food for the next person. The general rule was; you leave it as you found it and you do what you can to replace what you used.

The sound of the pump stopped and Brienne moved to the side as a now naked Jaime stepped carefully into it, keeping his right arm dangled down to the side.

"If I faint, pull me out; I don't intend to be the first Lannister to die in a bath tub."

"Why would I care how you die?" Came Brienne's retort.

"You swore a solemn vow to get me to King's Landing in once piece; not going so well is it. No wonder Renly died with you guarding him." Brienne rounded on Jaime

"Sorry, that was unworthy; you've protected me better than most."

"Don't mock me." Arya could hear the anger in Brienne's voice. _Only the real Jaime Lannister can bring out that kind of anger_.

"I'm apologising. I'm sick of fighting, let's call a truce."

"You need trust to have a truce."

"There is it; there's that look I've seen on face after face for seventeen years."

" _You all despise me._ Kingslayer. Oath breaker. A man without honour. You've heard of wildfire?"

"Of course."

" _The Mad King_ _was obsessed with it."_

Arya quietly walked in and listened, her eyes widening and jaw dropping with almost every word.

"Tell me, if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it?" Jaime was crying. Both Arya and Brienne stood dumbfounded.

"If this is true... why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell Lord Stark?"

"Stark? You think the honourable Ned Stark wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me. By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right?"

Arya and Brienne both rushed forward as Jaime lurched and slumped into the water.

"Ned Stark was a fool." Arya said quietly. Brienne and Jaime both looked at her. "He trusted the most dangerous man in King's Landing, confronted the queen alone" She scoffed. "He lived in a world that doesn't exist anymore and it got him killed."

"You seem to know a lot about him and his movements in the capital." Said Jaime.

"I have my sources." She stood and walked passed him, Brienne let go of him for a moment and he slid back down the tub.

"He needs help bathing." Said Brienne, picking up a sponge and slowly beginning to wipe the grime away from his shoulders. Arya sighed and reluctantly snatched the small pale sitting on the floor next to the tub and removed the bar of soap.

Brienne handed her a jug full of water silently. Arya sighed again and took Jaime's head in her hands and carefully let it hang over the edge of the bath. Shielding his eyes she poured some of the water down wetting his hair, just as she had done so many times with Sansa back in Winterfell.

Taking the soap she muttered. "Don't get used to this."

"Never." He whispered, closing his eyes.

"I'll see if I can find some clean clothes." Arya stood and strapped on her sword

"Where are you going?" Brienne asked.

Arya paused at the door. "I'll be back, just stay here." She opened the door and stepped out.

She relished the fresh air; being stuck in a small room with two people who haven't bathed in who knows how long - one of them with a decaying stump took it's toll. The air in there was so think it was tangible; full of death, suffering and mistrust, she had come to know it well and was beyond tired of it. She sighed, _this is only the beginning_.

She rummaged through the cupboard of the abandoned hack and found a few things that looked like they would fit Jaime, unfortunately she wouldn't be able to replace them before she left this place but she hoped the gods would forgive her.

She may have said earlier that her father lived in a world that didn't exist anymore but she didn't believe it. Not really. She was living in the same world – a world of honour and justice just as the Bravosi taught her. To be a Water Dancer _and_ a faceless man was to live by a code. It was a simple code but it meant that no-one who followed the code became a mindless murderer – revelling in the humiliation and lingering deaths that was becoming popular in Westeros.

"We should move out in the morning." Arya said in between mouthfuls of rabbit.

"Jamie isn't ready to travel yet. We should stay a couple more days at least." Said Brienne.

"No, we can't risk staying in one place for too long. The chance that someone will come looking for him is too great."

"Which direction are we travelling?" Jaime asked.

"South."

"My father will pay you well for my safe return."

Arya laughed. "I don't want your father's money."

"What do you want then?"

"Nothing I can't get for myself." Arya mumbled.

"Our priority should be getting to King's Landing and freeing Sansa Stark."

Arya leaned back in her chair. "I don't think it will be that simple. The deal you made to free Sansa was made with Tyrion but he is in no position to do that."

"What do you mean?" Worry evident in Jamie's voice.

"You don't know?" Arya took another breath. "Stannis attacked King's Landing but thanks to Tywin he failed. Now that Tywin is back in King's Landing, he's taken his place as Hand of the King. Tyrion was only acting Hand after all and with half Robb Stark's army marching home, I don't see any reason for Tywin to hand over the heir to Winterfell. Especially since you just turned up at his front door with him and if he see _that_." She indicated Jaime's stump . "We'll be lucky to make it out alive."

"I'll make sure my father releases her."

Arya smiled. "Not even you have that power - no-one makes Tywin do anything that he doesn't want to do. You two can try negotiation but you have to give me your word that if it fails, we do it my way."

"What do you plan to do?" Asked Brienne.

"I don't know yet but I will have something by the time we reach the capital."

"What is your interest in Sansa?"

"None. I merely want to see Tywin's face when he realises his bargaining chip has escaped."

They fell into silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. Arya had considered revealing her secret, at least to Brienne – she may need their help to get Sansa but she couldn't do it. That would require a level of trust that she wasn't sure she was capable of anymore. Part of her still couldn't believe that she had saved a Lannister, much less that she was, even for a moment, thinking she could trust him! Jaime Lannister?

But she had seen him change – maybe he was right – he was that hand and now that it was gone, a new dormant personality had a chance to take over?


	9. Chapter 9

Lady Lannister?

The road through the Riverland's was a long and dangerous one; with everyone out looking for Jaime, the three could not afford to draw attention to themselves but not knowing who was patrolling where was starting to become a problem. They had almost run into patrols on three separate occasions.

"It's too risky." Said Arya looking over the small hill to the tiny tavern.

"We don't have a choice, if we don't find out where these patrols are, we're going to ride into one." Jaime Said.

"He's right."

Arya leapt forward and clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widened at her mistake. She shook her head again. "This is what I'm talking about; a mistake like that could get us killed. What if someone in there recognises Jaime? Or notices you're a woman in armour? They'll be all over us in seconds."

"I'm used to stares and ridicule." Brienne asked indignantly.

"Maybe you are, but we're trying to keep a low profile!" Arya looked around, assessing their options. "Alright, I have an idea; I'll go in first and get a table in a quiet spot in the back, give it a good ten minutes then you two come in. Brienne, If Jaime wears your armour, you two can go in together, if anyone asks just give them a convincing story, find a seat and order something. If everything is alright, I'll come over, if not I'll walk out - you two go out the back. Got it?"

"And what are we to pay with?" Said Jaime.

She resisted the urge to say 'your father'. Instead she handed over a few gold coins. "That should be enough to cover it"

"Where did you get that?" Brienne asked eyeing the coins.

"When you live like I do, you learn to get what you need."

Arya stood, climbed over the hill, and made her way down to the tavern. Trying to make herself look like a malnourished young boy, she hunched over and slowly opened the door.

She was immediately hit by the din of many voices all talking at the same time, she was relieved; the more people in here enjoying themselves, the less likely they are to notice her odd travelling band.

She stumbled up to the bar and asked for a bowl of soup "And how do you expect to pay little one?" The bar tender asked, leaning down.

Arya pretended to search for something, then produced a small dagger and placed it on the bar. "What will that get me?"

The bar tender moved back and stared at it suspiciously. "Now how would a young lad like you get a blade like this?"

"My father gave it to me, he was killed when the Mountain raided our village. Please, I'm so hungry." She pretended to cry, that her hunger and the loss of her father and his dagger was too much. It wasn't too far away from how she felt anyway, which probably helped her sell it.

The bar tender seemed to take pity on her and scooped up a bowl, pushing it and the blade towards her. "It's on the house."

The look of relief she showed on her face could have made her cry, if she were still capable of it. She stowed the dagger carefully and cradled to bowl as she went to find a table.

There was one sitting right in the corner that looked perfect - all three of them would be deep enough in the shadows that no-one could recognise them unless they were stood right next to them.

Arya tucked into the soup, it tasted terrible, but she had had worse since leaving Winterfell. It wasn't long before an armour clad man with a scruffy looking woman in toe marched in and took a seat. Arya doubted it was ten minutes since she had arrived but no-one seemed to pay any attention to them.

She watched a rather chesty woman waddle over to their table and take an order, she couldn't hear what they said, but she assumed everything went well when she left and returned a little later with the same soup Arya ordered.

She gave it another few minutes to let people forget about them before heading over as quietly as she could.

"Any problems?" Brienne asked.

"Not so far."

They sat in silence, eating their soup and listening to snippets of conversation; nothing too interesting until three soldiers stormed in through the door, the flayed man emblazoned on their armour.

Jaime immediately bent down over his soup and Brienne turned in her seat so her back was facing the men. Arya, as discreetly as possible inched her chair slightly to the left, hiding them of view and kept her head down.

"Bar keep! What's good here?" One of the men shouted.

The bar tender visibly shrunk under the stern gaze. "The ale is one of our specialties."

"Bring me your best ale." He boomed as his two companions chose a chair three tables down from them.

Arya looked up and saw fear in Jaime's eyes, Brienne gripped the spoon so tightly it was shaking, Jaime moved his hand over to hers and gently manoeuvred the spoon back onto the table. Arya frowned; _there's definitely something there._ Arya could not see Jaime Lannister being with anyone but his sister, but then again this man wasn't the Jaime Lannister she knew.

"I'm telling you, it's just creepy." The skinny soldier said.

"Oh come on, not you too." Said the beefy one.

"Haven't you heard of the Ghost of Harrenhal?"

"The Ghost of Harenhall doesn't exist."

Arya stifled a laugh and ignored the confused look from across the table.

"The four Lannister guards by the gate were killed where they stood; one of Tywin's men was killed right in front of him!" Skinny was almost shouting.

Beefy shushed him. "Maybe the Ghost of Harrenhal just hates Lannisters."

Arya could feel Jaime's eyes boring into the top of her head but she refused to look up.

The door swung open again and another Bolton soldier walked in. He joined the three at the table

"So Myron, any news from the Capital?"

Myron frowned. "You haven't heard?"

"How could we have heard anything? You've been stuck in meeting's with Lord Bolton since you got back."

Myron nodded. "Stannis attacked the city." Everyone at the table leaned forward; they couldn't see it but the three at the adjoining table had the same reaction. Arya glanced up at Jaime and for the first time, she saw genuine fear in his eyes. Brienne looked blank but judging by her clenched hands, the news hit her hard too.

"Well, what happened?" Skinny asked.

Myron took a long drink from the mug the barman just dumped on their table "He failed." Myron laughed. "Seems the psychotic little king had some wild fire - probably left over from that nutter Targaryen - he blew Stannis' ships right up. Set the whole bloody bay alight! The few that made it to land didn't stand a chance when Tywin rode in with the Tyrell's."

The table erupted with laughter, banging their flagons on the table. Jaime almost collapsed on the table.

Arya could tell the barman was getting concerned about the raucous the Bolton men were making, thankfully they seemed to calm down before he had to intervene, if he even intended to.

"So Tywin is back in King's Landing eh?" Beefy asked.

"Aye, and he didn't wait long to get to work."

"What do you mean?"

Myron chuckled. "Well he's back as the Hand of the King now but I heard from some of the hand maidens that in two days the little Stark girl they've got holed up in there is to be married off... to the imp!"

The colour drained from Arya's face as the table erupted in laughter again. The pain in her heart felt like she had just been run through with a dull blade. She gripped the edge of the table with all her strength until the pain eased and she was able to breath again. She closed her eyes and focussed on bringing her breathing back down to normal; _calm as still water. Calm as still water._ She repeated like a mantra until she felt sure she could relax a little.

"Wait a minute, I thought that girl was supposed to be Joffrey's pet?" Skinny asked.

"Nah, the queen reagent changed her mind, see the daughter of a traitor ain't good enough for a king. Nah he's promised to Lady Margery now."

"Ha! I wouldn't mind sticking my sword in Lady Margery, if you know what I mean. I hear she's a right little harlot."

Arya sprung up and shot to the door unable to hear anymore. A few seconds later she was joined by Brienne and Jaime.

"Are you alright?" She asked, clearly concerned.

"We should get out of sight, make camp for the night." She said, deliberately avoiding the question. Truth be told, she had no idea if she was alright. She didn't know specifically what Sansa was going through but she knew enough about Joffrey and Cercei's characters to form an unsettling idea.

One thing she did know - this marriage would destroy Sansa, she had been dreaming of her wedding to a handsome knight since she was a child and Tyrion didn't exactly fit the bill.

Although, of all the Lannister's to be married to Tyrion certainly wasn't the worst, Arya knew that Tyrion would keep her safe. She might even get to leave King's Landing... to live in Casterly Rock!

Arya couldn't even imagine the fear and hopelessness her older sister was going through, it made her feel physically sick every time she thought about her.

She knew what she had to do now.

"This is a good place to make camp." Brienne announced, bringing Arya out of her inner monologue.

"I'll go get some wood for a fire." Said Jaime, heading out into the woods. Brienne was pulling out the sleeping bags from the horses sleeping bags.

The fire crackled mesmerising with the three huddled around it, a thick atmosphere of awkward tension hanging above them. They seemed to be avoiding her eye, clearly unsure of what to say, or even if they should say anything.

Arya lay down looking at the stars. "We need to reach King's Landing by tomorrow afternoon at the latest." She said.

"Why?" Said Brienne.

"If Sansa marries Tyrion we'll never get her out of King's Landing."

"And you think we can get her out _before_ the wedding?" Brienne sounded defeated. "Tywin will never release her now, even with Jaime!"

"Sansa will be too well protected now that Tywin is back in King's Landing, we might have had a chance with just Cersei but not now. We need the wedding as a distraction – the guards will be focused elsewhere and we may have enough time to sneak her out through the tunnels and back streets."

"How do you know so much about King's Landing?" Asked Jaime.

"I spent some time there, years ago. The point is, I know the route to take to get Sansa out without being seen."

"And what do you want us to do?" Said Brienne

"Lannister guards will be outside her door and following her everywhere she goes. I need Jaime to make sure that they are busy and no-where near Sansa…"

"And how am I to do that?"

"By insisting that you guard Sansa yourself. Now Brienne, you will be at the end of the tunnel – it comes out as a sewage drain outside the walls – I'll show you where. From there, you will get Sansa to somewhere safe."

Brienne nodded. "What about you?"

"If I can make it out with Sansa, I will but it won't take long before the guards discover that she's missing. I will buy you as much time as I can."

"What? We can't leave you in there! What if you get caught?" Arya was almost touched by Brienne's concern.

"Look at me – who is going to notice a skinny peasant boy in King's Landing? I'll be fine. If I can't make it out with Sansa, I'll just wait in Fleabottom until everything calms down."

Neither Brienne nor Jaime spoke for a long time. "Are you sure about this? It's quite a risk to take for someone you don't even know." Jaime asked quietly.

"Of course I'm sure and it's much of a risk, I can get myself in and out of anywhere."

"From right under Tywin's nose?" Brienne asked sceptically.

Arya shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

They looked quizzically at Arya. Then Jaime's eyes widened. "The Ghost of Harrenhal?"

Arya cursed under her breath. How could she be so stupid to say that! She was getting careless – loosing her edge.

"That was you? How can you be the Ghost of Harrenhal?" Jaime paused, remembering the field of Bolton corpses she had left behind. "Who are you? The Bravosi don't train peasant boys. Who are you?"

Brienne was looking back and forth between Jaime and Arya with growing alarm. "Arry?"

"Arry?" Jaime frowned. "Arry?"

"Jaime, what is going on?" Asked Brienne.

"There aren't many people in Westeros that can fight like him and I know all of them, except this boy."

"What does that mean?" The look on Jaime's face was making Brienne nervous.

"I sparred with someone about your size. I was surprised at the skill even though you were trying to hide it."

Arya let her head fall into her hands. _Well done Arya! What good was all that training; all those blows every time I forgot to leave my old life behind? Now I've just gone and revealed myself to a Lannister._

"That's quite a disguise. I never would have recognised you."

"Recognised who?" Brienne was utterly bewildered at this point.

"Would you like to, or shall I?" Jaime was taunting her

Arya snorted. _No use hiding now. I am Arya Stark. I am Arya Stark._ She felt her face change beneath her hands. She turned to look them both dead in the eye.

Brienne's jaw dropped, Jaime's eyebrows flew up but that taunting smirk returned quickly.

"Who are you? Who is she? How did you do that?" Brienne was looking frantically back and forth between her and Jaime.

Arya sighed. "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. Youngest daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catlyn."

"I don't understand, You are one of Lady Catlyn's daughters? how did you do that? How did you change your face? How did you escape from King's Landing? Why didn't you tell us who you were when you knew our mission?"

Arya smiled. "Sword fighting wasn't the only thing I learned in Bravos. Magic, real magic still exists in the world – just those who practice it have long died out. Only a few families and even fewer people have any magic left..."

"And the Stark's are one of them?" Jaime asked, sceptically.

"Our way is the old way. The Targaryen's are another. Anyway…A friend of my father's, Yoren, from the Nights Watch smuggled me out of King's Landing before the goldcloaks even started looking for me. I had the element of surprise on my side. I didn't tell you because I didn't know you Brienne so I didn't know if I could trust you but I did know Jaime and knew I could not trust him."

"Then why did you save him? And me?"

"I was taught to grant death quickly, cleanly. I was taught and brought up with honour; there's no honour in kicking and humiliating an enemy when he is down, even if that enemy is the eldest son of Tywin Lannister."

Jaime looked away, uncomfortable at the reminder but also grateful to Arya for saving his life – a unique situation for him.

"This explains why you're willing to risk so much for Sansa's return." Said Brienne.

"And explains how I'm going to get her out." Arya was met with confused stares. She continued. "I will pretend to _be_ Sansa, take her place at the wedding so that you can get her to safety."

"So… _You_ are going to marry my brother?"

"As Sansa, yes. Get some sleep; we have a big day ahead of us."


	10. Chapter 10

Stark/Lannister Wedding

Arya woke first, packed away her sleeping bag and went out hunting. She was roasting a couple of squirrels when Jaime finally woke up.

"What time is it?" He grunted.

"It's early yet, the days are getting darker. Winter is coming."

Jaime clambered out of his sleeping bag and tried fruitlessly to roll it up one handed; several attempts later and Arya shuffled over to help.

"I can do it!" He jerked away. Arya raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to needing… help."

"I know, there's a lot of things you'll need to get used to now."

"You will as well if you plan to marry my brother." Jaime almost looked sad as he spoke.

"Believe me, I've been through worse." Arya mumbled.

"You really think this is the right thing to do?"

"It's my only option, the only way to get Sansa out and back to our mother."

"But …"

"What?"

"If you marry Tyrion, my father will expect you to…Consummate the marriage"

"I know, I'm hoping I'll be able to get out before then."

"And if you can't?"

"Then I guess I'll have to figure something out."

Jaime was silent for a several minutes. "I'll help you get out."

"No. There's no sense in you ruining your life for me. I can take care of myself"

Jaime laughed. "Believe me, I know. But you saved my life, the least I can do is smuggle you away from my family."

Arya smiled. "You don't owe me anything." She stood and removed the squirrels, she looked back at Jaime. "But thanks anyway."

Brienne stirred. "Hey, we saved you some squirrel." Said Jaime throwing a piece at her.

"Thanks." They ate in silence

There awkwardness of the previous night's revelation hung around the three all morning until finally Brienne turned to Arya as she was preparing her horse. "I think what you're doing for your sister is brave but I don't like it."

Arya paused, her hand still on the buckle of the saddle. "I know – you feel it goes against your oath to my mother, letting me sneak into the lion's den." Brienne and Arya shared a smile. "But I don't need you to protect me, Sansa does. I'm going to need you to look after Sansa after we free her - promise me you won't let anything happen to her. And tell my mother that I'm alright, that I'm alive and she doesn't need to worry." She knew she was doing the right thing but she wasn't sure that it was any safer for Sansa outside King's Landing than it was inside its walls. Still she had to take the chance; _this Brienne seems capable of protecting Sansa._

"I will, I promise."

"There it is. Last chance to back out." Brienne half joked as they stared at the imposing walls of King's Landing.

Arya spurred her horse on. "It's far too late." She mumbled to herself.

The guards unsurprisingly stopped them at the gates and asked them their business. Brienne answered. "I am charged with bringing Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing."

"This isn't Jaime Lannister. What game are you playing?" The guard scoffed.

"Perhaps we should let Lord Tywin decide, if you would prefer to take the matter up with him." She threatened. Arya couldn't help but smirk a little. _She's fierce._

The guard hesitated, clearly not wanting to bother Tywin but still unsure what to do. Finally fear of Tywin won out and he let them pass. Brienne let out a sigh of relief.

"Wait!" He called back.

"You didn't mention this one, who is he?" He asked gesturing to Arya who was pretending to be a peasant boy.

"Just picked him up on the way, you don't expect me to tend to the horses _myself_ do you?" She sneered, hoping her false bravado would be enough to sway him.

"Very well."

The three stopped in the courtyard and looked around, struggling to comprehend what any of them were doing back in the heart of lies and treachery.

"So, now what?" Brienne asked.

"Well, I think it would be best for me to find my father." Jaime shivered, Brienne placed a hand on his arm, he smiled at her. "I'll get you each a room in the keep"

"And who am I supposed to be to get a room in the keep? No, it's easier if I share with Brienne, if that's alright with you?" Brienne and Jaime nodded.

"I'm going to find some Lannister armour that no-one will miss. I take it the armoury has a few spares?" Arya asked Jaime.

"Yes, plenty. If you go through the service entrance around the back of the smelter no-one will see you." Arya nodded her thanks.

"And I'll see if I can find Sansa." Brienne said.

"She'll likely be in the centre of the city, my sister will keep her close but if you do see her, you have to be careful not to scare her away or alert any guards."

"He's right. Sansa will likely be suspicious of anyone trying to help her. If you see her, tell her… 'That I'm sorry I burned her pink ribbon.' She'll know what it means."

Brienne nodded and made to follow Jaime into the heart of Kings Landing when she stopped. "Wait, how will we find each other again?"

Brienne looked from Arya to Jaime before he finally spoke. "We'll meet back at the stables in an hour."

Jaime was right, through the back of the armoury everyone was too busy working to notice a little boy sneak in - and right there along the back wall was a row of red Lannister armour. _It's like taking candy from a baby._

She wasted no time finding the smallest armour she could and strapping herself in, she would have to be careful now, a peasant boy is easily ignored but a Lannister guard - not so much but it didn't matter as long as she got Sansa out of this place. It was strange, ever since her father was killed and Yoren smuggled her out of King's Landing she's been trying to find a way back to her family and since then she's never been closer to her family until now, right back where she started. Arya couldn't even guess how long ago that was; felt like a couple of lifetimes at least - she had certainly grown up a lot since then, or was it grown cold? She barely even recognised the little girl that would tease Sansa and moan at the prospect of sitting down with the Septa. _I wonder if it'll be like that for Sansa, will I recognise her? Will she even recognise me?_ A chill ran down Arya's spine

She shook herself out of her thoughts, _no time to think!_ She assumed the most commanding poise she could and marched out of the armoury.

She had no idea where Sansa might be now, was she still being held in our old rooms or has the queen moved her somewhere closer? How much freedom did she have here? Could she leave her room and walk the grounds? If that was the case she might never find her.

She gave up debating and started walking down a corridor that looked familiar - _might as well stick to the places I know._ No-one bothered her as she walked slowly through the corridor to the training yard where she practiced her dancing with Syrio. A tear fell down her cheek as she remembered her old friend; sacrificed his life to save hers.

She wiped away the tears and stood straighter continuing along the corridor, she heard voices further ahead. Instinctively she made to duck into the shadows but stopped herself. _come on Arya, you're a Lannister guard now not Ned Stark's daughter!_

Three hand maidens strode past her, too involved in their own conversation to notice her "Where is Sansa Stark?" Arya almost shouted at them. She had no idea who was more surprised by her outburst; her or the hand maidens

"She's praying in the Godswood, ser." The girl in the front said, bowing slightly.

 _She's in the Godswood!_

She wasted no time, walking as quickly as she could without drawing suspicion.

No-one bothered her on the way out the gates and down the path to the Godswood. As soon as the fiery tree came into view. Arya had no idea how Sansa was likely to react if she just marched down the path to her dressed in Lannister armour but she couldn't very well take the helmet off and walk down as herself, there might be guards down there.

She sighed, walking slowly down the path, not making a noise, she finally saw her. Or at least the back of a girl kneeling at the base of the tree. She looked so small, like a child.

"Sansa?" Arya blurted out, so quietly she wasn't sure if Sansa could hear.

The girl slowly turned around, still kneeling and met Arya's eyes. "What are you doing here? I'm allowed to pray in peace!" She said, trying to make her voice sound strong, Arya knew better.

"Sansa it's me, Arya." She took the helmet off.

Sansa's jaw dropped, she stood frozen, gaping at her. "Wha... How? You're dead! They told me you were dead! This is a trick, has to be." She backed away shaking her head.

"It's me, there's no trick. Yoren, you remember Yoren, from the Night's Watch? He smuggled me out of King's Landing after... We were ambushed, I've been trying to get back to get you and bring you back to mother and Robb."

Something sparked in Sansa's eyes for a moment and then it was gone. "No, this is just another one of his tricks to get the traitor to say something against him... or the Queen."

"How can this be a trick Sansa? You can see that I'm your sister! And you are not a traitor to anyone, neither was father, he was right."

Sansa stared at Arya. "You're different, you don't sound like Arya anymore. It has to be a trick, it's always a trick."

Arya sighed. "I know I don't sound like her, I barely even remember that girl. You're not the same either Sansa. I remember you used to be happy and carefree. We've both changed but we're still sisters." Arya paused, it was true, she had been so completely consumed with rage and the need for revenge that somehow the young girl she used to be had been lost, possibly forever. Sansa on the other hand looked broken, weary and mistrustful of everyone, she didn't recognise Sansa anymore than Sansa recognised her. It pained Arya to admit it but they weren't sisters anymore. "Look, we don't have a lot of time here, I need you to believe that I'm here to help you. I'm going to break you out of here. I have a friend, her name is Brienne, she's going to smuggle you out of here the same way Yoren did for me."

"And how will she do that? I'm watched every minute of the day by Lannister guards." She whispered.

"I'm counting on that." Arya smiled and indicated her armour. "While the rest of the guards are distracted, that will be the time to get you out."

"But how will you distract the guards, everyone is on high alert with..." Sansa broke off.

"Your wedding to Tyrion? Yes I heard. That is going to be our distraction."

"Arya, you're not making any sense."

"You know what I learned to do in Bravos, other than the fighting?"

Sansa nodded slowly, not comprehending. Several seconds passed before Sansa finally understood her sister's plan. Her head shot up. "No! You can't do this! I won't let you! There has to be another way."

"There is no other way, believe me, I've had plenty of time to think about it. Have you seen any other chance?" Arya was almost pleading.

She shook her head, resigned. "Haven't we been through enough?"

Arya scoffed. "I think there's more coming. It doesn't matter anyway, as long as you get out of King's Landing, I'll find a way to get out some other way."

Sansa nodded, a tear falling down her cheek, she wiped it away hastily. Arya walked forward and hugged her. "Don't cry, you'll be with mother and Robb again soon - sooner than you think, they're at the Twins. Come on, we need to get you back before they suspect anything." Arya put her helmet back on. "I'll try and stay with you as a guard but don't assume one of them is me until you see that it's me, ok? I mentioned Brienne before but Jaime Lannister might try to help you. I know what you're going to say that you can never trust a Lannister, especially not him and you might be right but still something has changed in him. Be cautious around him, what you say and do but listen to him."

They reached the gates back into the city and Sansa's regular guards waiting for her. They didn't question her presence there.

Unsurprisingly, Arya was the first to arrive at the stables, she found a perch in the shadows and waited. Waited until the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, still no-one came. Arya began to panic and unlocked her frozen joints, her foot just touched the ground she heard voices coming from across the yard.

Arya froze and tucked herself painfully back into her perch, hand on the sword she stole along with the armour. The voices grew closer, Arya tensed further, she knew it wasn't any of the stable boys coming to check on the horses. She knew their voices by now, this was someone else - maybe another guard. Then she saw the glint of gold in the moonlight and her pulse started to race, _a gold cloak!_

Arya eyed the escape route she had left herself when she picked this little spot when the moonlight lit up the man's face. Arya's heart skipped a beat before she let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. She took a few calming breaths and stepped down.

"Now there's the Jaime Lannister I remember." Said Arya, emerging from the shadows. It wasn't a compliment. Jaime and whom Arya now recognised to be Brienne in City Watch armour both instinctively reached for their swords. They relaxed when the saw it was her, but Arya didn't. Something about Jaime having cleaned up and cut his hair made Arya uneasy, he didn't quite look like the Queen's arrogant twin - maybe a weathered version of him.

Logically, Arya knew that he was the same man that she had nursed, that he had always been and would always be the son of Tywin but now that he actually _looked_ like him again, all Arya could see was the man that pushed her brother out of a window.

"How did the meeting with your father go?" She asked. Jaime sighed. "Not well I take it?" Jaime remained silent, Brienne looked at him sympathetically.

"What about Cersei? Have you seen her?"

Suddenly a fire burned in Jaime's eyes. "She looked at me like I was _disgusting_ to her, like I wasn't her brother, like I was a ..."

"A cripple?" Their eyes locked, a sadness filled his, resignation filled hers. Arya sighed. "I'm sorry."

"We didn't see Sansa but from what we heard from the guards, she's definitely here." Brienne broke the awkward silence forming.

"It's alright, I saw her today, out in the Godswood. I filled her in on the plan." Said Arya.

"And she's willing to go through with it?"

"Reluctantly, yes. I promised her that I would be right behind her, that as soon as she was safely out the cit, I would make my move out of here too."

"But you didn't mean it, did you?

Arya sighed. "Once the wedding is in full swing and all the guards are stationed around the Throne Room, that's when you will go to Sansa's room and get her out through the tunnels underneath the city. Tonight, I'll show you where to go."

"It's too dangerous, you don't know the tunnels, I do. I should take Sansa down there." Said Jaime.

"No, your place is by the King's side. If you're not present at his own wedding, it will raise suspicion." Said Arya.

"So what am I supposed to do? Nothing? After all everything we've been through, you still don't trust me do you?"

"It's not that I don't trust you. Now that you're back, Cersei will never take her eyes off you, she'll want to know where you are at all times and if you disappear for even a few minutes, she'll notice and she'll probably tell Tywin, then he'll alert the guards. You and Sansa would never even reach the tunnels and you would lose everything you have here - everything you fought to get back to."

Jaime's head dropped, defeated. "Alright, I'll make sure none of the guards leave."

Arya nodded, relieved that he had believed her.

 _Today is the day... the day you become a Lannister._

Arya and Sansa had already swapped places, at dawn, down in the Godswood. They swapped clothes, Arya now in a dress and Sansa in Lannister Armour with Brienne.

After the capital had gone to sleep, Arya took Brienne and Sansa down to the entrance of the tunnels. It was a long walk through water and everything in the tunnel was slippery so they didn't attempt to go through to the end. Once in the tunnel though, Sansa just had to keep moving until she saw daylight.

Brienne would make her way down there an hour before the wedding started – 'to keep the rabble in line'.

It was late when Brienne and Jaime retired to their rooms but Sansa and Arya stayed awake all night. Sansa recounting the people she saw regularly, what they talked about and that ridiculous little mantra she would sound every time someone tried to speak the truth: _my father was a traitor, my mother and brothers are traitors too, I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey._

 _Ridiculous!_ Arya truly had no idea how long she was going to be able to keep up this wounded little girl persona - long enough for Sansa to escape of course but after that...

Sansa had insisted that her hand maiden be brought into the fold, she assured Arya that she could be trusted. Arya wasn't so convinced, Sansa always saw the best in people and ignored the bad. Still this Shae girl might be useful in filling in any blanks along the way.

"What's wrong my lady?" Shae asked.

"Nothing, I'm just a little nervous." Said Arya, trying out her sister's timid voice.

"You have nothing to fear my lady, Lord Tyrion will treat you well." Shae frowned.

"What is it?"

"My lady?"

"You looked sad just now."

"Forgive me, my lady. I shouldn't be sad on your wedding day."

"What is it?" Arya was back.

Shae's face registered shock, but recovered quickly. She sighed. "Lord Tyrion is a little... _old_ for you."

Now it was Arya's time to be shocked, she turned her back on the full length mirror and faced Shae. "The Queen and Lord Tywin have worked hard to make such a good match for a traitor's daughter."

"I know, you're right. I'm sorry my lady." Shae looked abashed, Arya knew she was lying.

She sighed. "Finish tying me up." She turned back to the mirror.

Moments later, as Shae tied the last string in her dress, there was a knock at the door. "My future husband?" Arya murmured sarcastically.

Putting on her wounded Sansa expression and voice, she opened the door. It was not Tyrion but his brother. "Ser Jaime." She bowed a little and stepped aside.

He stepped in and closed the door; he glanced uncertainly at Shae before he spoke. "Are you ready? Tyrion will be here soon to escort you."

Arya was a bag of nerves, not that you would know it to look at her but she was terrified that Sansa wouldn't make it out of King's Landing and they would both be stuck here, or worse.

"This will work." Jaime said reassuringly, sensing her anxiety. Arya nodded.

"Yes I'm ready."

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then closed it again. He nodded to Arya and promptly left the room.

Arya had barely enough time to run through the plan again in her mind before there was another knock at the door. This time it was Tyrion


	11. Chapter 11

Purple Wedding

Her plan worked! Sansa was long gone from King's Landing and on her way to the Twins to meet their mother and brother. No-one suspected that she was impersonating her sister but she couldn't stay long or they would. On the down side, she was now, by marriage, a Lannister! Arya snorted to herself – if her father could see her now – married to a Lord, not exactly ruling his castle and certainly not having children that will be knights and prince's but much more of a lady than Arya ever planned to be. Arya shuddered.

As often as she could, usually late at night or early in the morning Arya would pretend to be an orphan girl down in Flea Bottom, she rarely slept more than a few hours, and sharing a room with someone was out of the question. It was the best time to gather information on the Lannisters anyway and today she had hit the mother lode.

It was well known that Stannis' forces had been almost completely wiped out at the Battle of Black Water Bay and that wildfire was used to do it, but what she didn't know was that the wildfire was being made on Cersei's order. Tyrion had found out and taken over but Arya's instincts were screaming. If she knew Cersei as well as she thought she did, there was no way she would keep all of the most deadly fire in the world in one place. She was far too paranoid for that and far too mistrustful, particularly of her little brother. No, Cersei would have another stash of it somewhere else, the question was, _where?_

The Pyromancer would know you needed specialist knowledge to handle that stuff. He would be her next target but he's not likely to just tell a peasant girl and if he didn't tell Tyrion there was more he obviously still holds _some_ loyalty to Cersei. How do I break that loyalty? What hold does she have on him? There was the obvious, threat of violence, beheading, threaten his family, if he had any, it could just be obscene amounts of money.

Even if she did manage to get him to talk, what's to stop him from lying and running to tell Cersei what she's done? She would only get one shot at this; she has to kill the Pyromancer after she's seen him. _This is not going to be easy. Damn near impossible!_

 _Unless... Cersei asks for it herself. He'd have no choice but to give her what she wants._ _A risky move but it might be my only hope._

It wouldn't be easy stealing some of Cersei's clothes; she could sneak in while Cersei was at a council meeting but if she notices it missing or gets back early. A dark cloak might be better; she would want to keep a low profile down here anyway. She had observed Cersei – how she moved, how she held herself, how she talked. Hopefully she knew enough to put on a convincing show, would the pyromancer even know her well enough to notice? She doubted it.

All that would have to wait for the moment; it was time to begin her, or rather Sansa's routine. Arya quickly made her way back up to the room she now shared with her _husband._

Tyrion wasn't even awake yet, since the wedding he had been drinking a lot more than normal, it seems he was just about as happy with his current situation as she was - no doubt it was his enforced celibacy that really had him wound up. He refused to consummate their marriage until Arya/ Sansa wanted him to – which would never happen but he swore to uphold his marriage vows and remain loyal to her alone. Arya had to admit that she did feel sorry for him, he may be a Lannister but he was nothing like the rest of his family, she had always liked him. He knew better than anyone what his father, sister and nephew were capable of and yet he openly defies them, hits back as hard as he gets. She respected that – perhaps in time, she might learn to let go of some of the hate that she carried around but for now, she had work to do.

Arya quickly removed the rags she wore to Flea Bottom and put her sleepwear on, as far as Tyrion would know, she was here all night. She was just stowing the rags when Tyrion stirred.

"Sansa?"

"I'm here."

"Did you sleep?"

"A little. I don't sleep much."

Tyrion sighed.

Arya poured a glass of water from the pitcher she kept filled on the table. "Here." She handed him the glass.

"Thank you, my lady."

Arya swallowed a retort, she hated anyone calling her 'my lady', but she knew that Sansa was always so proper, she let it drop. The awkward tension between her and Tyrion was really starting to get annoying but then it must be difficult being openly despised by your own wife.

"Shall we go to breakfast?" Arya asked sweetly.

"You go. I have a meeting with my father first thing. I'll meet you after?" He still sounded half asleep, or more likely, still drunk from the night before.

"I would like that." Again Arya tried to sound like she meant it.

"Would you?" He sounded uncertain but almost hopeful.

"Of course. I'll get dressed and go down now."

Arya stood and began pulling out the _dress_ that she would wear that day. Maybe she was just misremembering but the dresses were more uncomfortable than when she was forced to wear them at Winterfell.

She couldn't help but notice that Tyrion slid out of bed and pretended to focused on something in the far corner of the room – facing the other way. Arya smiled to herself – modesty. Did that really exist anymore? Maybe only in this room.

Shae, as if summoned, flew in through the door and immediately began tidying up the bed clothes. There was a definite heir of anger to her, like the sheets offended her, then she froze, looking at them. She and Tyrion shared a look.

 _What was that about? Oh of course! Sansa is still a maiden – she knows… or at least thinks she knows that Sansa hasn't been deflowered! But what was with that look? Why would Shae care, she was just Sansa's hand maiden… or was she?_

 _Sansa said that she had come into her service recently; she was very beautiful and judging by her accent she is from across the Narrow Sea – possibly Lorathi or Braavosi._

 _Perhaps this was the reason that Tyrion was so unhappy at their marriage! Arya didn't blame him, she was a poor substitute for such a beauty, but this arrangement could never work._

The bed now sufficiently made and Arya unable to continue dressing without help, Shae turned her attention to her. Without a word she took hold of the strings at the back of Sansa's dress and pulled violently. _Definitely a bit of tension there_.

It felt like a lifetime or maybe two before Arya was finally sitting at the breakfast table overlooking the bay. Did Sansa really go through that every morning? The dress… the hair… the jewellery… all had to be just right before she could set foot out the door! Urgh! No wonder Arya hated being a lady! So much of the day wasted in just getting ready for it!

Arya examined every morsel on the table in front of her, piled high with fruit, meat, lemon cakes – Arya had never been much of a fan of them – strawberry tarts. Her mouth watered; being constantly on the move, hunting to survive, it had been a long time since she had seen sweet things!

Of course, she was suspicious of any food that she hadn't prepared herself, although, being married to Tyrion, she suspected she was probably slightly further away from danger than she was as Joffrey's intended. Never the less, she still had some herbs left from her travels which she crushed and brewed into an antidote for the most common poisons. She hoped that would be enough to counteract whatever, if anything might be in the food, but she didn't have much left. Another reason she couldn't stay long.

Arya spent most of the morning, happily contemplating _exactly_ how Joffrey; Cersei and Tywin would die. It was one of her favourite past times, after all these were at the top of the list – heads of a family and monarchy – their deaths had to make a statement. Arya relished the challenge but she could never settle on the method, the timing she didn't have a great deal of control over. So how would she do it? There was always the obvious: poison their food or water; slit their throat while they slept but that was just too subtle and too quick for Arya's liking. There was no way she could take them on publicly – she would never get enough time to get all three of them and escape at the same time. They would all have to be done at the same time but in secret, which pretty much left poison – something all of them would drink. What if Jaime consumed it? … Was she worried about collateral damage? Then again, if the three of them died at the same time, it would only be one third of the impact! That wasn't right. Could she risk only killing one or two and hoping she had a chance to kill the other another time? If so, which two did she kill? Who were her biggest threats? Well that was obvious really: Joffrey and Tywin _must_ die before she left King's Landing. _Valar Morghulis._ But how? When?

Arya heard footsteps approaching, her head jerked up, her hand to the thin blade concealed beneath the folds of her dress. It was Lady Olenna of house Tyrell. Arya relaxed slightly as she drew closer in a relaxed, confident stroll.

"May I join you?" She asked pleasantly.

"Please do." Arya replied, just as sweetly, indicating the chair opposite.

Olenna unhurriedly lowered herself into the chair. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, glancing pointedly at the handmaidens surrounding the table.

Arya understood the message. "Would you mind fetching some more refreshments for Lady Olenna?" She addressed the handmaidens. "Would you like something in particular?"

"Figs would be lovely. Thank you." The two women scuttled quickly away, leaving Arya and Olenna alone. "As you are no doubt aware, my granddaughter Margery is now to wed Joffrey. What is he like behind his golden lions?"

Arya was taken aback. _Was this a trick? Was she working with the Lannisters and trying to make her commit treason? Or was she just an old woman, shrewdly worried about her grandchild?_

The Queen of Thorns had made a reputation for herself over the years as a woman who spoke the blunt and blatant truth, except when it suited her and her family. Arya decided to take the risk and confide the truth in her. "He's a monster! He cut off my father's head and made me look at it! He had me beaten by his Kingsguard!"

"Ah." Olenna leaned back in her chair, sighing. "Well that's disappointing… but not surprising. The question now is; what to do about it?"

Arya couldn't believe this woman's directness! It was a wonder she hadn't been accused of treason and relieved of her head by now. "I'm not sure what you mean." Arya feigned ignorance.

"I will not allow my granddaughter to marry that. So what is to be done?"

"I'm afraid I'm in no position to help you secure a better match for Margery."

"Don't play dumb with me child. After everything this boy has done to you – you don't want revenge on him?"

Arya's heart rate quickened. _Where was she going with this?_ "Those are treasonous words, my lady. If people heard you talking…"

"But you are not people, are you? I've spent my entire life, sifting through politics, lies and hidden truths – in fact I've become something of a master at it. I know that you will not tell anyone about this conversation and I also know that you and I have shared interests."

"Shared interests?"

"Neither of us wants to see Joffrey wed Margery."

Arya dropped the innocent act and played along. "What do I care about Margery?"

Olenna gave her a withering look. "Whether you care for the fate that my granddaughter will face at the hands of that, so called monster, is not important. The solution is the same."

Arya nodded. "How can I help you with this solution?"

"That's what I'm here to find out."

Arya hesitated. This was the tipping point. Was she trying to help Margery or trap Arya? Her heart was pounding. What was it Little Finger said: _everyone in King's Landing was a liar and every one better than Sansa_? But what about Olenna and Arya?

Arya gave in. If this was a trap she was pretty sure she could get herself out of it – she been in worse places anyway. "Should anything _happen_ to Joffrey. I… and then my husband Tyrion would be the first suspects."

"Not if you were both long gone from King's Landing before something _happened_."

"What would be so urgent that would draw the king's uncle and aunt-by-marriage away from King's Landing so soon before his wedding?"

"You would both be visiting High Garden, the home of your future niece and queen…with the intention of making it back for the wedding – barring any unforeseen delays."

Arya nodded. "You mentioned something about me helping you in this."

"Yes. I have the opportunities to make this happen but not the means."

"You have powerful friends and a great deal of money – can't you find the means yourself?"

Olenna leaned forward. "Of course I could, if I wanted the goldcloaks and city watch throwing me in chains immediately…"

"I see. Let me see what I can do."

"Be discreet. I am taking as much of a risk talking to you as you are to me.

"That's true. What's in it for me?"

Olenna looked surprised. "I take it the satisfaction of having a hand in this is not enough?"

"Not to take the risk of working with someone else, someone who could betray me or inadvertently reveal something."

Olenna looked like she was about to say something in anger but regain her composure. "What do you want?"

Arya explained, as vaguely as she could exactly what she wanted from the formidable old woman. She looked dubious but in the end agreed to Arya's demands, understanding that the less she knew of the details the better.

Olenna left the table just as the handmaidens had returned with her figs. She whipped one off the plate without slowing down.

This was a strangely fortunate arrangement – she could kill Joffrey, leaving no clue as to the killer. Reminds her of the Ghost of Harenhall. More dramatic than some chambermaid finding Joffrey's dead body in his chambers and less risky than doing it while she was still in King's Landing.

Now it was just Tywin to take care of. And the fire.

Arya was just getting up to leave when Tyrion joined her. "I'm sorry, Sansa. The meeting with my father ran later than planned."

"That's OK, Lady Olenna kept me company. I saved you some breakfast How did the meeting go?" Arya handed over a napkin with a selection of everything.

Tyrion looked stunned as he accepted the napkin. "Thank you." He said slowly. "Urgh, the meeting…didn't go well."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She paused. "Lady Olenna has invited the both of us to High Garden. She _insists_ that we see it and if we leave now, we will be back in time for Joffrey's wedding!" Arya tried to sound enthusiastic – perhaps overdoing it a bit.

"I… don't think that would be a good idea. I'm needed here and my father..."

They stopped walking and faced each other. "Please Tyrion. I would like a break from King's Landing – just a short break. I think it would be good for us to spend some time away from… _everything_. Plus, I've _always_ wanted to see High Garden" Arya gave him her most meaningful look.

Tyrion smiled. "How can I disappoint my wife?" His smiled vanished almost immediately.

"Great! I'll start packing – we should leave in the morning if we want to make it back in time." Arya knew he wasn't happy with this but she didn't care, she did her bit for her conscious. After they were out of King's Landing, Tyrion could do what he liked. Suspicion would likely fall on him and by extension her for the murders of Tywin and Joffrey, even if neither of them were there at the time. Cersei would see to that but there was nothing that could be done.

Instead of returning to their chambers to 'pack', Arya veered off down into the tunnels to begin preparing the poison she would use.

The last time she was in King's Landing, she had found this little spiders web of tunnels and created a small stockpile of goodies in case she was ever back in the city and was in need of weapons, plants, herbs...

It only took minutes for Arya to find the discoloured rock in the wall and began to dig directly below it. She pulled out the mortar and pestle and a very rare plant, only found in the Jade Sea of Essos plus some herbs from the Summer Islands.

Arya ran through all the mental check-list in her mind once more: the poison was made – just needed to be delivered; the horses were fed and carriage prepared; she had paid Bronn and Podrick more gold than they could carry between them to lead the carriage out of King's Landing and towards High Garden in the morning no matter what and to say nothing to anyone.

All that was left to do now was to speak to the Pyromancer and then sneak into Tywin's chambers and spike his wine with the poison. She knew from her time at Harenhall that Tywin tended to retire to his chambers very late and only occasionally did he have a glass of wine before heading off to bed. Spiking that wine was a risk but she suspected that with all the preparations for the wedding, plus ruling the Seven Kingdoms, he would want to keep a clear head. Then again – he may be more inclined to drink.

Either way, it was her best shot at such short notice – ideally she would have liked to rig something either in his chambers or in his study so that when he sat down an arrow would shoot out from a concealed spot in the corner and pierce his eye but she didn't have the time. Besides the more elaborate a plot, the greater the chance of discovery or malfunction.

She quickened her pace back up to the room she shared with Tyrion – it seems he had thought it a good idea to invite her to lunch with him and her new brother-in-law. She hoped that Jaime was a good enough actor to treat her like the Stark daughter he barely knew, instead of the one that saved his life.

"Have some boar. Cersei conquered enough of it since Robert killed one for her." Said Tyrion, forking an enormous sausage onto his already laden plate.

"I'm not hungry." Jaime said quietly.

"You lost a hand, not a stomach! Sansa?" He motioned to Podrick to take the plate to her.

She shook her head. "No, I'm still full from breakfast. This is enough for me." She indicated her salad.

"That's not food! At least have some wine." Tyrion poured her a glass and handed it over.

"Your new hand – it's nicer than the old one."

"Is it solid gold?" Podrick asked.

"Gilded steel. A toast! To the Lannister children: the dwarf; the cripple and the mother of madness!" Tyrion smirked as he raised his glass.

Jaime instinctively moved his right hand forward to the glass but sent it washing over the table. Arya could see how much it pained him to be so useless.

"I'll get it! Leave us!" Jaime waved off Podrick as he made to clean the table

"it's only wine!"

"I can't fight anymore."

"What about your left?"

Jaime shook his head. "I can hold a sword but all my instinct are wrong. How can I protect the king when I can hardly wipe my own arse?"

"You're the lord commander now. Command – let others do the fighting. When was the last time father swung a sword?"

"I am not father! I'm the Kingslayer, when people find out I can't slay a pitcher…"

"So train then. Learn to fight with your left hand."

"With whom? People talk!"

Tyrion considered this for a moment but it was Arya who came up with the solution. "Ilyn Payne."

"Sorry?" Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"He's the royal executioner, so he can handle a blade and couldn't tell anyone anything if he tried."

"It's settled then!" Said Tyrion

"So how is married life?" Jaime asked looking between them.

Arya glanced at Tyrion. "It's fine." Said Arya.

"It's great. We're very happy." His voice lack sincerity.

"So the pressure from father is not a problem?"

"What pressure? Arya asked, looking from one to the other.

"You haven't told her? That's what Tyrion's meeting was about this morning, and yesterday morning." Jaime turned to face Arya. "Father is concerned that you are not yet with child."

"Why does it matter to him? He got what he wanted – what's left of the Stark family is part Lannister."

Tyrion was staring into his wine. "Tyrion asked father if the two of you could take up your rightful place as head of Casterly Rock."

"Is this necessary brother?" Tyrion grumbled. Arya suspected that Jaime was trying to tell her something but she wasn't sure what.

"I believe your wife should know that father refuses to acknowledge your birthright! That you will never rule Casterly Rock."

Ah! Tyrion's status as a Lannister was flimsy at best and anything that Arya did – like killing his father and nephew – would destroy what little he had

"Thank you brother, for bringing that up, again." Tyrion sounded hurt.

"But your children will be welcomed back." Jaime finished.

She thought on it a moment but the situation hadn't changed. She may be killing Tywin and Joffrey out of her own need for vengeance but it was bigger than that – they were threats to the Seven Kingdoms! She wasn't being a hero but sometimes in war - sacrifices must be made! Casterly Rock was not her concern.

 _I am Cersei Lannister._

Now it was time to take the biggest risk of her life!

With as much confidence and arrogance as she could and entered the Guildhall of the Alchemists. The pyromancers looked up at the sound of the door. Wisely only one approached her.

"Hallyne." Arya greeted him.

"Your grace. I trust you found the wildfire to your satisfaction?" He asked; a hint of tension in his voice.

"I did. Now I'm here for the rest of it."

"The rest of it? He sounded more alarmed than confused.

She carried on the bluff, hoping she was right. "Yes. I have need of it."

"Very well, your grace. Would you like me to take you to it?"

Arya relaxed, relieved that her instincts were correct. "No. I would like you to move the pots… all of them to the docks. There is a ship waiting there called the Scarlet Rose. I want you to discreetly load all of the remaining pots onto the ship before morning. Understand?"

"Yes, your grace. It will be done."

The pyromancer turned to leave. "Hallyne. If you fail me… wildfire will be the least of your concerns." Even in the poor lighting, Arya saw the colour drain from his face as she swept back out the door.

 _Well, that's that covered; now it's onto the Tower of the hand!_

It was far too easy to sneak into the private chambers of the King's Hand! Granted the tunnels that Arya used were mostly forgotten and well hidden but still – it was an extremely serious security flaw. Well they will discover it when Tywin takes a drink from his wine!

As she suspected the pitcher was still in the cabinet behind the dining table, the glasses beside it – bone dry. It wouldn't take much poison to kill Tywin; only a couple of drops would be enough but she didn't want to take chances – she may never get another one like this again.

She only had enough ingredients to fill a phial – half of which she gave to Olenna earlier but if all went according to plan, she wouldn't need any more so she poured the rest into the pitcher.

When mixed with wine it was completely tasteless and there was no cure for it! The effects took hold so quickly that even if there was a cure, no-one would have time to get it and with the throat clamped shut, it couldn't be swallowed anyway.

That's why Arya loved this poison so much – it left no-one in any doubt what was going to happen. Once a few drops were swallowed, it was all over.


	12. Chapter 12

RED WEDDING

The instinct to run down to the stables and ride out of King's Landing as though the devil were chasing her was very hard to resist!

Instead she had to spend the night in her chambers, all night, with Tyrion. Then saunter down, in the morning, to the waiting carriage! Urgh! It was unbearable!

Arya had just poisoned Tywin's wine pitcher, delivered the same poison to Lady Olenna, and was currently smuggling wildfire out from beneath Cersei's nose! If even one little thing went wrong…!

 _Calm as still water._ She knew this would be the case. No-one could trace any of these acts back to her – well Olenna could but then she would have to answer some seriously awkward questions about _how_ she knew that Sansa was planning on poisoning the king.

No. She was safe for the moment. She just had to get though the night and first thing in the morning, she and Tyrion would be allowed to leave the capital. But it was going to be a long night!

"Is everything alright, Sansa? You seem nervous." The concern on Tyrion's face was clear.

Arya relaxed a little. "I'm fine."

Tyrion frowned at her. "Is this about what my brother said earlier?"

Arya was taken aback a moment. "What do you mean?"

Tyrion seemed unable to meet her eye. "What he said about me never ruling Casterly Rock…" He cleared his throat. "But my _children_ would rule."

 _Oh this again! Is that all he thinks about?_ "Uh… No, I'm not nervous about that."

"Good, because you know that I would never…Unless…"

"Yes, I know." Arya really was not in the right frame of mind to have this conversation!

Tyrion seemed to be searching for something to say. The fact that Arya's position on the topic had not changed was uncomfortable. "Have some wine." He poured a glass and thrust it at Arya.

"Thank you."

"I always find everything is easier to deal with, with a little wine in the belly." Tyrion was rambling.

 _This really is going to be a long night! What do married couples talk about?_ Arya was never one for sitting around in a harem talking. She was the one looking for ways to wreak havoc!

She took a long gulp of wine, emptying half the glass. It helped a little but not enough. "What will you do, now that you know your father will never let you have your birthright?" _Oh! That was a little harsh_

Tyrion took it well. "I guess I'll stay here with my wine and …" Tyrion stopped himself.

She couldn't decide if he was going to say 'wife' or 'whores'. "You would have been happy with that if it hadn't been for this." She waved her hand between the two of them. "Wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean? I've never been happier."

"Tyrion." The tone in her voice told him everything he needed to know.

He sighed. "I had a good arrangement here… and in fact wherever I went. No-one really expected the dwarf son of Tywin to hold any official roles and so I could do whatever I wanted. But now…

Father was furious when Jaime joined the Kingsguard! His favourite son, with one snap decision, signed away his rights to hold lands, taking a wife, and father children. Of course that didn't stop…" Tyrion looked up, uncertainly at Arya.

"I know all about Jaime and the true parentage of Joffrey, Tommen, and Marsella." _My father was beheaded because he found out!_ "I'm sure your father, or even Joffrey could release Jaime of his duties. Particularly given the circumstances." Arya drained the last of her wine. Tyrion immediately refilling it, his third glass already empty.

"But that's the problem! Jaime refuses to leave the Kingsguard."

"Why? He said it himself, he can't fight, and Casterly Rock is without a lord."

"Jaime wants at least one vow that he has yet to break!" Tyrion scoffed.

"If you find vows so… inconvenient, why do you keep your vows to me?"

Tyrion looked awkward. "I…"

"Neither one of us wanted this marriage. You really don't need to treat me like a wife." The wine was clearly making Arya's tongue looser but not less abrasive.

"But you _are_ my wife! In the eyes of the Old Gods and the New. We may not have wanted it but that doesn't change the fact that it happened!"

 _Urgh! I'm trying to help him get back to his own life and I end up insulting him! This is why I prefer talking with weapons!_ "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it the way it came out." Arya slumped down in the chair and had some more wine. "I just meant that… I'm not…I'm not a good wife for you. I don't hate you but I hate Lannisters and I can't get past that. It's not fair on you to put your life on hold, hoping that I might…" _That was uncomfortable! I hate talking about my_ feelings _!_

"I'm not putting my life on hold. As you and Jaime pointed out today, I have no life – just drinking and whoring..." He took a long gulp of wine to prove his point.

"I didn't mean it like that" Arya interrupted.

"I know. My father hoped to insult us both with this marriage. You were meant for a king and got a dwarf; I got a traitor's daughter but the truth is the joke is on him! You got out of your abusive marriage and I got the kindest and prettiest bride in all King's Landing!" Tyrion was starting to slur his words and stagger. Arya had to hold his hand steady as he refilled her cup.

She had to admit, she was a little touched by those words, – of course the fact that he was talking to Sansa and not her was a little weird. "Those are kind words, thank you."

An awkward silence fell between them. Tyrion sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his boots, and lay back.

Arya quietly finished her wine.

It wasn't long before she heard the gentle sounds of snoring coming from the bed.

Arya eventually went to bed but hardly slept a wink, even with all the wine. Although she was tired and a little tipsy, she and Tyrion made it out of King's Landing without any problems!

Now she just had to decide what to do from here. Her intention was to meet up with Sansa on the way to The Twins but what about Tyrion? She couldn't bring him to her uncle's wedding – the last time he and mother saw each other, she accused him of throwing her brother out of a window and demanded the King's justice!

No, they had to part ways but how to do it? She could slip away in the night – then he would likely send every Lannister guard out looking for her. It would keep his name reasonably clear but she couldn't risk more Lannisters out looking for her.

She could fake her own death? That wouldn't work – as soon as she and her family were back together, Sansa would be expected to resume her duties as a Lady of Winterfell. Could Sansa really marry someone else, even if she hadn't consummated this one? Who would she marry? Half the suitable Lords were dead! How would mother react when she learned of Sansa's marriage?

Arya chastised herself – none of that was important. She could tell Tyrion the truth but that was risky – the fewer people who knew what she could do the better, and besides he might come with her anyway to see his real wife. _Dammit! Why did she have to be the good Samaritan and save him?_

She sighed. This had to be done. "Tyrion? I need you to do something for me."

He looked curiously at her. "What is it?"

"Promise me that you will let me do this?" She tried to sound innocent.

Tyrion looked both confused and worried. "I…Promise." He said reluctantly.

"I need to see my family. I know they are traitors to the crown but I haven't seen my mother or brother since I left Winterfell. I miss them. Please? I promise that I'll return to High Garden before you go back for Joffrey's wedding." Bile rose in Arya's throat at having to _ask permission_ to see her family – even if she was pretending to ask.

"But what about visiting High Garden, you said you'd always wanted to see it and Lady Olenna herself invited us. She would be disappointed at your absence." She could tell he was reluctant to let her go.

"I know but I can explain why I had to leave to Lady Olenna when I'm back in King's Landing and I won't be gone long – I'll get to see some of High Garden. Please Tyrion – its killing me not seeing my family; especially after my father never got to see them before he was killed." She knew that was a little below the belt but she needed something to break down his caution.

Tyrion thought on it for a time; for a long time. She thought he might still say she couldn't go, then she would have to resort to plan B.

Finally he caved. "Alright, of course you can see your family, but only on one condition. You take the carriage with Bronn."

 _What? There's no way I'm travelling this slow to the Twins and then I would have to find a way of getting rid of Bronn!_ " I can't take the carriage! I'll never make it to The Twins and back to High Garden before the wedding!"

Tyrion sighed. She was right. "Alright; horseback then but Bronn still goes with you!" Arya opened her mouth to argue more but the look from Tyrion silenced her. He was not going to budge on this one!

"Agreed." She could always pay Bronn to abandon her – that was the great thing about living the way she did. If you didn't have many morals, you steal from the rich and then bribe them!

Tyrion wrapped his knuckles on the side of the carriage – it slowly stuttered to a halt. Podrick appeared at the window. "Change of plans, Pod. Bronn is to take Lady Sansa to The Twins on horseback. You and I will continue on to High Garden. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Arya stepped out of the carriage and turned to take one last look at her fake husband. "I won't be long, I promise! Thank you for letting me go!"

Tyrion smiled. "I can't deny my wife anything. Ride carefully. Bronn! Keep her safe!"

"Don't you worry one hair on your little head. I'll make sure she gets to her mother safe."

The ride to The Twins was long and hard. Arya rode hard and never stopped unless it was absolutely necessary.

Bronn to her annoyance kept pace with her the entire journey. She had been hoping to lose him somewhere along the way but then again, travelling with another person, particularly someone trained with a sword, was something of a comfort – at least she would have someone to distract any patrols long enough for her to escape.

Thankfully, mainly to Arya's route planning, they hadn't run into any patrols. They had come close two or three times but the fools were too busy comparing conquests, _loudly_ to notice Arya and Bronn.

Now that she was here, she was surprised that Sansa and Brienne weren't already waiting for them. Fear, churned in the pit of her stomach, her mind automatically going to the worst possible scenario. She dismissed it. They were probably on the other side of the bridge with their mother and brother.

It was immediately obvious as they crested the hill overlooking the twin towers that an enormous army was camped outside the furthermost tower. Arya could only assume that they were Robb's men. _He was already here!_ She grew excited at the prospect of seeing him and mother again after so long!

 _Right, now how to get across the bridge? I could always tell them who I am and hope that they let me cross – call that plan B. I could swim up river to the bridge, then use the supports to help me cross… That's a long swim though! An even longer detour!_

Arya had always envied the Frey's towers – such a highly defensible and vital crossing! Anyone wanting to travel from north to south or south to north, without adding weeks onto their journey, _had_ to come here!

So how was she going to get across? Was there someone, she could impersonate that the Frey's couldn't refuse passage? Not likely and none that would travel with one companion. Frey had countess sons and daughters… and wives.

She could disguise herself as an exotic beauty and hope that she be let through to present herself to Walder Frey. Arya shivered at the thought. _No, this is just getting too complicated – I'm relying on too many variables._

"Alright, let's get down there!" Arya called to Bronn. She still didn't know why she was allowing him to come this far but it didn't seem like the time to order him to leave – not that he would.

"And how do you propose to get over that bridge? Ask Walder Frey to let his future whatever-in-law to grant passage? Bronn asked sarcastically, fully aware of the old man's reputation.

"Yep!" She could see out the corner of her eye that Bronn was staring at her.

"You're not serious? If they decide they have too many Stark's… or former Stark's, they'll rain fire down on us from those towers!"

"Why wouldn't they grant me passage? I may be a _former_ Stark but I am still entitled to attend my uncle's wedding." Arya turned to look at him." Do you have a better idea?" She took from his silence that he didn't.

Arya was uncomfortably aware of how exposed they were – the Frey's would have at least 20 minutes to get their ducks in a row before Arya and Bronn even came into focus!

There was not other choice – the fact that they hadn't fired at them yet was promising. No doubt the Frey's would be expecting guests to turn up at their door.

"Declare yourself and intentions!" Arya couldn't even see the man shouting down to her.

"My name is Sansa Stark and I'm here for my uncle's wedding!"

"And I'm her bodyguard…Bronn."

"We got word that you were no Stark, my lady. Congratulations on your wedding!" The voice was getting closer. "Please allow me to escort you, no doubt your family would love to see you."

A plain looking man in drab, ill-fitting clothes stepped out from behind the tower and indicated for them to follow.

"It's been a long time since you saw your family hasn't it?" The man asked.

"Yes, I haven't seen them since King Robert rode to Winterfell."

"That must have terrible for you… and losing your father…"

"My father was a traitor."

"Yes… Well at least you will get to see your mother and brother before…" The Frey stopped himself and looked away.

The hair's on Arya's neck shot up, she could tell Bronn had the same reaction. "Before what?"

"Err… Before all the commotion starts with the wedding. Some of the preparations are still being made."

Arya wasn't convinced that that was what he had intended to say but decided to let it drop.

The three walked in silence the rest of the way along the bridge. It seemed to take forever to finally step off the other side but for every step Arya took, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she and Bronn were walking into the lion's den.

The Frey man led her and Bronn through the hive of activity around the numerous tents of her brother's men and into the castle. She caught sight of the direwolf Sigil flying over the tents and her heart soared. It had been too long since she had seen the banner of her own house! The pride of belonging to an old, respected, and noble family that had lain dormant, flared up – consuming her with joy. A joy she hadn't thought herself capable anymore.

She walked patiently beside the Frey man but was becoming increasingly desperate to see her family – if it wouldn't have sullied their reunion, Arya would have charged through the castle until she found them!

Finally he stopped outside a massive double door and indicated that the guard should open the door. "You're family is inside my lady. The wedding is due to take place this afternoon. If you'll excuse me, I will tell my father, Lord Frey that you will be joining in the festivities." He bowed and slinked off before the doors opened.

 _Huh, so he was one of Walder's sons? Not much chance of him making a decent match!_

"If you don't mind, my lady. I'll go and find myself a nice bottle of ale and a woman to go with it. Send for me when you need me." Said Bronn, turning back the way they came.

All thoughts of the Frey's and Bronn vanished when the doors open and one by one, her mother, brother, uncle, and several other faces, some she recognised, some she didn't, turned to face her.

For a moment everyone stood in shock, unable to move or think.

Until her mother took off running towards her; Arya charged to meet her in the middle of the dining hall. "Sansa! Oh my beautiful girl!"

Her mother held her so tight, Arya struggled to draw breath; she could feel her tears dampening her hair; her own tears falling onto her tunic.

"Mother, you're strangling Sansa!" Robb joked. The sound of Robb's voice sent a wave of intense emotion exploding in Arya. The tears were flowing so quickly that she couldn't even see him as he slowly walked over to her. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

The relief in his voice was palpable. "I thought the same about you!" She looked between him and her mother.

"But what of Arya? Do you have any news of her? Is she…" Cat broke off, unable to even think the word.

"She's alive! She escaped Kings Landing the day father…" It broke Arya's heart to see the sadness in her mother's eyes. "She's in Braavos."

Cat brightened – her smile of pure joy was infectious. "You're sure? You've seen her?"

"Yes! She's safe, alive, and well." Arya really wasn't happy lying to her mother but it was safer this way, until she could determine who could be trusted. Besides, it wasn't _that_ much of a lie. Arya was alive and well, as was Sansa. Where was Sansa? And Brienne?

 _The guards didn't react when I showed my face, so they obviously haven't seen Sansa – that was a good sign! There is a chance that Brienne took a longer, more secluded route and they will arrive later._

 _Urgh, I can't even send Bronn out to look for her arrival – yeah Bronn, could you head out and look for someone that looks exactly like me?!_

 _What am I going to do with him? I know Tyrion trusted him and they do seem to have some bond but how long will that bond exist if Tyrion stops paying him?_

"Sansa." Robb spoke softly. "I'm sorry that I didn't get you and Arya out…and father. I tried…everything I could think of but…" He hung his head.

Arya hugged him. It felt good to breath in the familiar musky smell of her brother. "I know, Robb! You started a war to get us back! We never blamed you!" Arya pulled away and looked him dead in the eye. "Father would be proud of you."

Robb's eyes began to water, he blinked them away. "I should introduce you…to my wife, Lady Talisa Mygear." He gestured for the pretty and obviously pregnant young woman to come forward.

Arya was completely stunned. It was several moments before she remembered how to speak. "Your _wife_?! You got married? When did this happen? I'm sorry." Arya took a deep calming breath and faced her new sister. "It's nice to meet you! How did you and my brother meet?"

"I was a medic on the battlefield, I travelled with him and his men, healing the sick and tending the wounded – both Lannister and Stark men. Robb and I spent a great deal of time together – we became close."

Arya nodded. "A lady treating wounded men on a battlefield – that must be quite a tale! I look forward to hearing it some day! I'm not familiar with house Mygear."

"An uncommon name here; an old name in Volantis."

Arya had to keep reminding herself that she was playing Sansa not Arya – _Sansa would only be happy for Robb, not interrogating her new sister. Keep it light!_ "I've never been to Volantis, is it nice there?"

"Much of it is very beautiful but others… can be an acquired taste."

Arya nodded. "I see you're with child! Congratulations! Have you thought of names yet?"

Talisa smiled. "His name is Eddard."

Arya felt a catch in her throat. "And if it's a girl?"

"It's a boy – I'm sure of it!"

Arya nodded again. She could tell that Robb and her mother were prepared to settle in and talk the rest of the day away but Arya couldn't afford to. She had to recon the castle and make sure that it was safe for her family to be here. Everything seemed perfectly normal but still, something in the back of her mind was telling her that there was something wrong.

"I should introduce myself to Lord Frey! It would be rude to impose without first asking permission." Arya turned to leave. "I shouldn't be long."

"Yes, you're right. Our friendship with the Frey's is uneasy at best." Said Cat.

Arya turned back. "What do you mean?"

Cat sighed. "Robb gave his word that he would marry one of Frey's daughters in order to cross the bridge and rescue you, your sister, and your father." Cat looked disdainfully at her son. "But he broke his word. We were lucky that he agreed to another marriage."

Arya doubted it had anything to do with luck. Walder Frey had a reputation as being conniving and self-centred; holing up in his virtually impenetrable castle with all his sons, daughters, grandsons, and granddaughters. There was a reason no-one chose a Frey to wed!

 _This changes things! Frey may be desperate to get rid of some of his daughters but not desperate enough to overlook a slight like that!_

Arya slipped out of the big double doors, explained to the guards that she wished to see Lord Frey. One nodded and gestured for her to follow him.

They walked in silence until they reached a once, grand but now old and tattered looking oak door. The guard knocked, poked his head through the door, and opened it wide for Sansa to step through.

Lord Frey's frail frame sat slumped in a tall, imposing chair at the far end of a large hall. Tables and chairs clearly laid out in readiness for the big day.

She never took her eyes off the old man as she walked the length of the hall, stopping at the bottom of the steps up to the Lord's table.

"Come closer. Let me have a look at you." His aged voice croaked. Arya climbed the steps and stood just out of arms reach. "My! You are a pretty one! Here to celebrate you're uncle's wedding are you?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Mmm… I hear, you have gone and got yourself a husband! Tell me – what is it like to fuck a dwarf?" Arya gritted her teeth but said nothing. "So where is your little husband?"

"He's in High Garden. We were invited to spend some time there before King Joffrey's wedding - I will join him there after my uncle's wedding."

"Is that so?"

Arya didn't like the way those words slithered from his mouth. "I would like to offer you my thanks." That surprised him. "For extending an offer of marriage to my uncle after my brother broke the very same vows. You are clearly a very forgiving man." Arya had to try had to hide the grimace of disgust at having to compliment this disgusting creature.

"Oh yes! I am very forgiving! In fact, this wedding will be even grander than the one I planned for your brother! It will be remembered for generations and will show all the great houses that house Frey, is still in the game!"

"The game?" He only smiled in response. The look in Frey's eyes was manic. Arya's blood ran cold. _What is he planning to do?_

 _It doesn't matter! We're not safe here!_ "Thank you for your time, Lord Frey. I look forward to attending such a grand wedding tomorrow!" Arya curtsied and hurried from the room as fast as decorum allowed.

Arya returned to the room she had been led to before but only her mother and Talisa were there. "Robb had to convene a war meeting with his men." Cat explained.

"Mother! We're not safe here! The Frey's are planning something – I don't know what but I think they plan to do it at the wedding tomorrow! We have to get out of here!"

"We can't break _another_ wedding vow! If we all walk out of here, Robb and his men will be at war with the Frey's! We can't afford to make another enemy!"

"The Frey's are already our enemy! Come on mother – you know Walder Frey better than anyone here – does he seem like the kind of man that would forgive an insult like we dealt him?"

Cat frowned. "No! But what choice do we have?" She sighed. "Do you have proof that Frey is up to something?"

"No, it's just my instinct."

"I'm sorry, Sansa but that won't be enough to convince Robb to march his army out!"

"But he doesn't need Frey anymore! He only needed the bridge to get to King's Landing and get Arya and I out but we're already out! Robb can march back to Winterfell, send for Arya and we can be a family again! Leave this war behind – it was never our fight to begin with!"

Cat sighed again. "After Robb is done with his meeting, I'll talk to him but I don't think he'll listen." Cat swept out the room, leaving Arya alone with Talisa. "Would you do something for me then?"

Talisa looked surprised. "I don't think Robb will take any note of what I say either."

"No, that's not what I was going to ask." Arya took a deep breath. "I have a really bad feeling about this wedding and I've never been wrong about something like this. Please, don't attend the wedding tomorrow! Leave The Twins tonight – I'll have Bronn accompany you. If I'm wrong and everyone is safe – I'll send word to Bronn to bring you back."

Talisa looked uncomfortable. "I don't think… I don't know… My presence will be missed at the wedding."

"We can explain away your absence – you came down with a fever in the night or something. Please! If this is as bad as I think it's going to be – we need someone to carry on the Stark line!"

Talisa's jaw dropped; instinctively she cradled her stomach. "You think the Frey's intend to kill Robb and your mother… and you?"

"I think I just made it an all-you-can-eat buffet by turning up here! You heard what I said to mother – Lord Frey has been the punch line of jokes and ridicule, almost his entire life. I don't see him taking this latest sleight lying down. I saw the look in his eyes, when I went to see him! He's out for blood and he won't stop until he's got it!"

"But what about Robb? I can't leave him behind!" Talisa was starting to lose her cool.

"Yes you can! Think about it – if Robb was in my place; he'd be telling you the very same thing. You and I both know that he will never turn and run, especially not because his little sister _has a bad feeling_ but he would want you to be safe! Please, will trust me? If only this once?" Talisa heisted but finally nodded. "Thank you! As soon as it gets dark, I will lead you of the castle and Bronn will take you some place safe. If you don't hear from us again…"

"What? If I don't hear from you again… what?" Talisa was starting to sound hysterical.

"Maybe you should visit your parents? Volantis will be much safer than Westeros if you don't have my brother to protect you."

Talisa looked uncomfortable but finally nodded.

"Ahh! Finally you're here! I was starting to get worried!" Arya hugged Sansa.

She and Brienne had rode quietly in under the cover of darkness. Arya had only spotted something moving in the shadows because she was focussed on watching Talisa and Bronn ride off.

"I know, we didn't want to risk coming across the bridge so Brienne took us the long way around to a narrower part of the river and a disused bridge." Said Sansa

"I didn't know about that one!"

"It hasn't been used in many years – it can't support the weight of a carriage or a cavalry so it's mostly been forgotten." Brienne explained.

Arya nodded. "Alight. Listen, I need you to really be on your guard here – something just doesn't seem right."

"Robb? Mother?" Panic etched Sansa's words.

"They're both fine; sleeping in the castle but I think the Frey's might be planning something so I need the two of you to be ready to get out of here as fast as you can!"

"And leave you, Robb, and mother? Never!"

"I'll be right behind you and if I can, I'll bring mother and Robb with me but they both have an army of highly trained men around them. You don't need to worry about them."

"Who was that I saw riding off when we came in?" Brienne wisely changed the subject before Sansa could protest further.

"That was our sister-in-law! Lady Talisa – it seems Robb not only got married but is expecting a child! If I'm right about the Frey's, I don't want them here for it."

"Hopefully one day, I'll get to meet her." Sansa said quietly.

"I'm sure you will and you will like her! C'mon, we better get out of sight. Brienne, I think you and I should disguise ourselves as Frey guards. What do you think?" Brienne nodded.

Brienne and Arya stood silently by the door watching Edmure marry Roslin. Arya had to admit, she was surprised at how pretty Roslin was! She hadn't realised a Frey could be so pretty – which begs the question, why was Walder offering her to marry Edmure and yet Robb got the choice of the worst?

So far nothing out of the ordinary piqued Arya's senses, nor Brienne's. In fact as far as she could tell, her family and the Frey's were actually enjoying themselves!

Then came the bedding ceremony! _Urgh! There is no way I would put up with that! Ridiculous ritual!_ Edmure seemed to be loving the attention though!

With half the Frey's attending to the newly weds, there were far fewer people in the hall. Arya wondered how much longer the festivities would last now that the wedding was officially over.

A Frey guard walked right past Brienne and Arya to the main doors. He pulled them shut and slid the bolt across, Arya's heart sped up. _Why would he seal us in here?_

The band started playing a slow mournful song. Arya wasn't sure if this was a big enough warning sign to act yet – even half empty there were still a lot of Frey's and only two of them. If she set off the alarm, she would only get one shot at getting her family out. She needed a little more chaos before acting.

She could tell her mother was on alert – _that's good! She'll react quickly!_

"Your Grace!" Lord Frey's voice drowned out the band. ""I feel, I've been remise in my duties. I've given you meat, wine, music but I haven't shown you the hospitality you deserve. My king has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift – wherever she is."

 _What's going on now?_

Catlyn sprung up out of her chair, slapped Lord Bolton across the face, and shouted to Robb!

 _Shit!_ Arya looked to Brienne but she was already in motion, weaving in and around tables to reach Sansa.

Arya made to move forward but halted when she saw at least 6 archers appear and begin firing from the balcony above Walder Frey's head.

She saw three arrows hit Robb, knocking him down to the ground, another hit her mother in the shoulder. She heard her scream in pain as someone knocked her to the ground.

Bile rose in her stomach. She fought to get to them but someone held her in a vice like grip, refusing to let go.

She looked over at her sister, still in the same position she had last seen her. _Why isn't she moving? Why isn't she helping them?_

She opened her mouth to call to her but whoever held her, clamped a hand over her mouth. Her shout died to nothing more than a whimper. "Put these on." A set of dark green light armour was shoved towards her.

Without warning, Catlyn sprang out from under an upturned table and grabbed the cowering girl nestled at Walder's feet, she held a knife to her throat. "Lord Walder! Lord Walder enough!" The archers trained their crossbows on her. _What are you doing? Hide!_ "Let it end! Please! He is my son, my daughter – my first borns! Let them go and I swear we will forget this! I swear it by the Old Gods and the New – we will take no vengeance!"

"You already swore me one oath, right here in my castle. You swore by all the Gods, your son would marry my daughter!" He screamed the last word.

"Take _me_ for a hostage but let Robb go!" "She turned to Robb, still kneeling on the ground, bleeding. "Robb! Get up! Get up and walk out! Please! Please!"

What little strength Sansa had remaining left her. Her legs gave out. Brienne forced to haul her back to her feet.

"And why would I let him do that?"

"On my honour as a Tully. On my honour as a Stark! Let him go, or I will slit you're wife's throat!"

Robb struggled to his feet.

"I'll find another."

Robb Turned to face Catlyn. "Mother." He already sounded defeated.

From across the room, Lord Bolton grabbed hold of Robb's arm as if to steady him. "The Lannisters send their regards!"

Sansa heard rather than saw the blade go in. She heard her brother's blood pour onto the floor.

The sound of screaming reverberated around the now nearly empty hall. It was several seconds before Sansa realised that it was just her mother screaming in anguish – she was too. The shock of seeing her brother killed before her eyes left her feeling hollow. A look similarly shared with her mother.

Sansa vaguely registered movement from across the room. Brienne had obviously noticed it too. She grabbed Sansa's arm and dragged towards it. _What's the point in trying to stop this? Who cares who's moving over there? It's over! It's all over!_

Brienne grabbed the person around the waist and began backing away with them to the door.

Sansa barely had the energy to raise her head and look.

It was Arya! But it wasn't Arya. The look in her eyes – Sansa had never seen a look like that and she had spent the last few lifetimes locked in a den of murderers!

Catlyn slit the girl's throat like it was nothing and then Catlyn became nothing. The look in her eyes and the blank expression on her face – it was clear that she was dead before her throat was slit.

Sansa could see that Brienne was struggling to hold Arya and keep her from drawing attention to them. Arya was fighting to get free but Brienne held firm, flung open the doors and half dragged, half carried the girls from the bloodbath.

The Frey's followed already shouting in celebration!


	13. Chapter 13

**Vengeance**

Sansa was only partially aware of being half dragged, half carried. Shouts, blood gushing, throats slit, these were the only things she knew. That and pain. A pain in her heart so strong she couldn't breathe.

Her sobs came in great racking cries, her face frozen in a silent scream. The images of her mother, brother, and all his men falling to the ground, dead, their blood coating the floor, replayed in her mind's eye over and over. She jammed the heels of her hands in her eyes, trying to push the memory out but it just wouldn't stop.

Sansa felt someone, whoever was dragging her fall down behind her. She didn't know where she was; didn't care. Anything would be preferable to living with the sound of your brother's blood hitting the floor or the look on your own mother's face when everything she loves is taken from her. No-one should have know these things.

"Arya? Arya! Come back!" Shouted Brienne.

 _Arya? What was going on?_ Sansa rallied what little strength she had remaining and lifted her head.

It took several seconds before she was able to recognise her sister through the tears and smoke. Finally she saw her walking off into the middle of the densest group of fighters, drawing a long sword and a short dagger.

Brienne sighed. "I'm sorry, Sansa. I swore an oath to keep you and Arya safe but I don't know where safe is now." Sansa said nothing. "I don't even know what to say to make this any better."

"It's…It's alright." Sansa choked on the words, lying limp against a pile of wine barrels.

Soon the field fell quiet. Sansa knew what that meant. An entire army of Northmen that will never go home. The North was truly lost now. Winterfell was in ruins, the Stark family cut down and no army left to fight.

The sheer weight of despair pressed down on Sansa from every angle that even the simplest of movements was too much to bear.

She barely flinched when Brienne leapt to a defensive position, sword partially drawn. What did it matter who was coming now?

"Arya? Arya! Thank the Gods. I thought…Arya?" Brienne's voice shifted from relieved to alarmed in moments.

Sansa gazed up at her sister, striding confidently toward them. Blood dripped from the blades, hanging limply at her sides. Her dark armour coated in layer upon layer of still warm blood.

A stab of fear pierced Sansa's heart at the sight. It wasn't the gore that frightened her. It was the look in Arya's eyes. They were manic, full of fire and rage. For the first time in her life, Sansa was actually scared of her sister.

Arya said nothing as she knelt down beside them, Sansa and Brienne staring expectantly. "What do we do now?" Brienne asked; an edge still to her voice.

"You take Sansa to Braavos. There's no place in Westeros that's safe anymore." Said Arya. Not a hint of emotion to her voice.

"What are you going to do?"

"Destroy Westeros."

As swiftly and quietly as she arrived, Arya was gone again.

 _They will pay for this. Every single one that had a hand in this will experience each and every burning ring of hell!_

Arya had very little memory of the immediate aftermath of her family's deaths. She only remembers the rage. That is a rage that's still with her today, two weeks on. It was like a warm blanket, it told her what she had to do. Spread the warm blanket around!

Now was the chance she had agonisingly waited for. It had finally arrived, the ship, sailed by Flea Bottom's peasants that contained the last of Cersei's store of wild fire.

 _This is gonna be big!_

Word had reached The Twins, a week ago that poor King Joffrey and his grandfather, the late Lord Tywin Lannister had been brutally murdered and that Sansa and Tyrion were the prime suspects.

Arya guessed, in fact she was pretty certain, that Lord Frey ambushed and killed her mother and brother with Tywin's backing. There's no way he would have been so bold without him.

Frey bound to be sweating in his tower, knowing that his one and only meal ticket has been carved up and served right back to him.

Arya inspected the stores of wild fire in the cargo hold of the ship. There wasn't a great many pots, but then again she didn't need many to turn the Twins into a smoking ruin that would put Harrenhal to shame.

"Alright, it's very important that you listen carefully to what I'm about to say – there will be no gold if you fail, only death. I need each of you to take a pot, keep them hidden until you find a place where they will not be found but will cause the most damage. Every one of you has spent time in castles like these so you bound to know the most effective methods to destroy them." Her words were met with a sea of nodding heads. "Excellent. If you manage to plant your pots discreetly and they bring down both of these towers. I will give you more gold that you can carry. Agreed?"

Again a sea of nodding heads. She waved them on to complete their mission.

This was the first time she had ever employed other people to do her dirty work, normally sending innocent people into such a dangerous situation would have bothered her.

Not anymore. She had a great many names added to her list and the Red God must have his names. This was purely a practical solution; many hands make light work and all. Besides if she were to be caught or killed while setting out the pots, the Red God would be cheated and the Frey's would have more power. _Unacceptable._

While the peasants worked on distributing the wild fire, Arya worked on the fuse.

The difficult bit was that blasted bridge. She had to run a fuse between both towers to take them both out with just one ignition point but if it was out in the open the Frey's would have enough advanced warning to disable it.

Arya gently lowered herself into the water, careful not to make a splash. She examined the underside of the bridge and breathed a sigh of relief at the wooden lattice work running under the length of the bridge. She scoffed; the burning fuse might even take out the supports.

She thread a stick through the reel holding the fuse and wedged it tight into the rocks. Satisfied that it would go no-where but still turned freely, she set off, holding the fuse between her teeth and swinging from one joist to another, feeding the fuse in behind her.

It was agonising work. She wasn't even a quarter of the way across before her arms started to shake and her grip loosen. She swung her legs up and hooked them onto the joists in front to give her arms a break.

She hoped that no-one was crossing the bridge or her wheezing gasps would surely have given her away. She looked back at the distance she had come and forward to what she had yet to cover, over half of it stretching beyond her sight.

For a moment, just a moment, Arya allowed herself a little self-pity, silently sobbing for the loss of her family.

The moment passed as quickly as it arrived, Arya steeled herself for more pain to her next rest stop.

No-one even noticed the small armada of peasants as they scurried through the hidden servant passageways designed to keep the servants moving freely through the castle. They moved quickly and silently, planting little jars of wild fire here there and everywhere - behind weapons racks, inside plant pots, and under beds. They did their job well, maximising what little fire they had by pouring tiny amounts of the clear liquid in various different rooms and up staircases.

When the last pot was planted and night had fallen the peasants drifted out of the castles like ghosts, meeting Arya under the bridge.

"Are they all in place?" Arya asked, without preamble.

"Yes, m'lady." Armand, the peasant closest to Arya answered proudly.

"Good, then let's get started. Armand, you, and Christof untie the boats and get them in the water. The rest of you, stay here until they give the signal."

Everyone nodded; Armand and Christof took off to the little patch of rocky shore at the base of the nearest tower. There was just enough of an overhang above the inlet to keep the boats hidden from all but the keenest observer.

Arya unwound the last of the fuse wire around the shore in the direction Armand and Christof had just disappeared. She moved slowly, careful not to kink or snag the wire on anything that could snap it or burn it out.

She reached the two men just as they were shoving the boats into the water; they nodded their readiness as she came into view. She tapped two stones together three times; the signal to the others that it was time to make their way.

One by one, they turned up and slipped into the boats without saying a word. Arya knew this was the most dangerous time in any attack. Right before you are about to spring the trap and make your escape; people lose focus, they think they have already won, they are overconfident and make a mistake.

Arya's heart sank the moment she heard the scream. She rushed in the general direction and with the help of the moonlight saw one of the peasants clutching his knee, blood pouring out between his fingers, his howls of agony ringing out across the still night.

She raced towards him and clamped a hand over his mouth, praying that no-one had heard him.

She was out of luck. "Who goes there?" A male voice sounded.

He clearly didn't know where they were, they were both dressed in black but the peasants screams were getting louder. He was struggling violently in Arya's arms; she doubted she could restrain him any longer, her arms still exhausted. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" She whispered in his ear but the pain was too much for him to hear the words she spoke, or recognise the danger they were in. "You're going to get us killed!"

Arya gasped when she saw a torch being lit in the watchtower. She looked around for a place they could hide out of sight but it was nothing but sheer rock. There was no way that both of them could scale those rocks before they were discovered.

Before Arya could even come up with a plan to get the both out alive, one by one, torch after torch was lit along the length of the bridge. She had noticed the channel of oil either side of the bridge but dismissed using it to set the towers alight for this very reason. If they were, for some reason, delayed, that oil and those torches would light up everything.

She only had seconds to react as the guards eyes adjusted to the light.

There was no choice. She had to leave him and make a break for it.

Arya dragged the still screaming man into a crevice between two rocks just behind them. There was just enough room for him to fit sideways, his damaged knee supported and exposed.

She bent down and whispered in his ear. "I have to leave you here but if you keep quiet, they might not find you." His eyes met hers but looked unfocused. "If I can, I'll come back for you. OK?" He didn't respond.

Arya could hear one of the guards talking to another as he stepped out onto the bridge.

Like a cat, she leapt from her perch and scrambled across the rocks as fast as she could.

"What happened?" Armand asked, running to meet her.

"He slipped on the rocks and tore open his knee. The guards heard him scream, I couldn't get us both out of there in time."

"Is he alive? We have to go back for him! We have to help him!"

Arya grabbed his arm to stop him charging off to help. "We can't do anything for him! The guards will see us!"

Armand rounded on her. "He would go back for you. He's a good man."

She felt a pang of guilt but it was quickly quashed as the castle above them slowly started to come to life. "Look, we need to light these towers up, right now. Once people up there are burning, they're not going to be interested in what we're doing down here. We'll be able to row the boats around to…"

"Darius." Armand interrupted.

"Right, we'll be able to rescue Darius, while the guards are distracted. Deal?" Armand nodded. "Great, now hand me that piece of flint and everyone stand back!"

Arya took the little black piece of flint in hand and struck it against a rock. It took a couple of tries but eventually the spark caught the end of the fuse and the little ball of flame made it's way quickly through the wire and out of sight.

The explosion was unlike anything Arya had ever experienced before. It wasn't a series of explosions as she expected, it was just one, ear-splitting, deep guttural blow. The nearest tower blew itself apart; massive slabs of stone the size of a man's torso and bigger scattered themselves in every direction.

"Get out!" Armand screamed as a shadow loomed over the boats, growing larger.

On instinct, Arya dove into the water and swam away, taking cover against the shore they had just left. She looked back at the boats, or at least where the boats used to be. Now there was just some floating driftwood and a great wave rippling out towards her.

She braced herself against the shore but the force of the wave still crashed into her back, forcing her head down onto the rocks. She clung on with all her remaining strength until the wave reseeded.

From the pain throbbing through her skull, Arya knew that it had been a heavy blow. It took a tremendous effort to lift her head and cough out the sea water she'd swallowed. She took a moment to blink her eyes back into focus and looked around.

She could only see three of the original eight peasants on the shore further down, they weren't moving and they were directly underneath the overhang that they'd stored the boats in. The same overhang that was now threatening to bring down the tower's west wall.

Arya turned, placed her feet against the banking ready to push off back into open water when one of the peasants regained consciousness.

It was Armand. "Help me!" He grimaced at Arya. "My leg is broken and I can't swim."

He reached out to her, pleading. Arya looked back up at the tower above them. Huge gaps had appeared in the stone bricks and a whole section had slid down the banking. She looked back at Armand, Christof behind him, supporting an unconscious woman.

A sudden calmness flowed through Arya, like pouring syrup on her head; a warm thick blanket trickled down to her feet.

Arya tensed her muscles and pushed off from the banking, her graceful strokes taking her out into open water and heading north out of danger.

She felt more than heard the second tower blow as another tsunami sent her rocketing up river. A few more powerful kicks and Arya was back at the shore line and pulling herself from the freezing cold water. But the evening wasn't cold, far from it.

The flames licked the sky like fingers clawing their way out of a grave. Both towers reduced to little more than a pile or rubble, never to grace another banner; the stone bridge over the Green Fork, gone without trace.

"600 years the Frey's have held the Crossing. Welcome to the last page in their history book."


	14. Chapter 14

_Only one left. Cersei_.

Arya had plotted, schemed, dreamed, and planned hundreds of different ways to do it, to scratch off the final name on her list but none of them felt right. This one had to make a statement; after all she is the queen! No half measures.

Word had reached King's Landing of the Frey's demise, then again, the smoke and smell of burning corpses probably arrived before any witnesses had a chance to send a raven.

It had been several weeks since the Frey line ended but Arya hadn't gone far, the fires were out by now of course, and the once imposing towers lay in crumpled charred burial mounds. No-one had come through to claim the dead or even bury them; the wolves had quickly picked their bones clean. Now they too served as a reminder.

It was time to reconnect to the world. Arya had scarcely moved in weeks, moving from the safety of her hollowed out tree to hunt or stretch her legs. The rest of the time, she stared at the ruin she created. She felt nothing, not anger, not grief, not vengeance.

She did feel as though a weight had lifted though, almost as though her ties to Westeros were loosening.

Arya wasn't sure when she decided it but she was determined now that once she had killed Cersei, she would leave Westeros forever and live the rest of her days in Braavos away from the painful memories, a fresh start. She was almost looking forward to it. She wasn't sure if Sansa or Robb's wife… Talisa? Would want to stay in Braavos with her or come back but it made no difference to Arya. One more task to complete and the last Stark would leave Westeros forever.

The nearest tavern to the Twins was in a ghost town, as were the next three that she visited. Finally she found a run down shack near Riverun, a full stable outside. She slipped inside and took the first empty seat she could find, opposite the bar keep.

Even now, weeks later, people were talking about the latest scar on Westeros' landscape. No-one had any idea who had done it, she had heard many theories: from the Lannisters nullifying a debt to the Frey's; to the Gods themselves.

Arya's favourite was definitely the Rat Cook. It was appropriate; he was cursed by the gods for killing a guest under his roof. It's the one crime the gods cannot abide and the Frey's learned that the hard way.

No matter, it was time to get back to business – she needed to kill Cersei and she needed the lay of the land to come up with a plan.

Normally she would be subtle about her information gathering, would sit in a quiet corner, and just listen to the patron's conversations. It could be days or even weeks before she learned anything of value but today, she lacked that kind of patience.

"What news from King's Landing?" She asked the bar keep as she ordered a flagon of ale.

His eyes brightened immediately. There was a reason that bar tenders were the ones with the most gossip – they practically lived off it. "Haven't you heard?" Arya pursed her lips and raised a brow. He cleared his throat and carried on. "Tywin Lannister and the boy King, Joffrey were murdered on the King's wedding day! The Gold Cloaks are scouring Westeros looking for the Queen's brother Tyrion, thinking he did it. The Queen… or is it the Queen mother now? Anyway, she's been locked up!"

Arya straightened. "Locked up?"

"Yeah, this High Sparrow threw her in the cells under the Sept for incest and the like"

"Who is the High Sparrow?"

"Oh, he's some peasant that took the place of the High Septon after he was found, by the Sparrows, in a whore house! Paraded him, _naked_ through the streets to the Sept of Balor. He says it's his mission to rid King's Landing of corruption."

Arya scoffed. "What will happen to the Queen now?"

"Well, it's said that she will be on trial, she will have to come up with evidence that she didn't do the things she's been accused of but if she can't she'll be killed!"

The bar tender kept on talking but Arya had heard all she needed to know. There was no way that Cersei could come up with _legitimate_ evidence that she was innocent but all the same, if she was given even the slightest chance to defend herself, she could worm her way out of just about anything.

Arya couldn't take that chance. But how would she do it? She doubted even as a Faceless man that she could get in and out of the cells under the Sept without being suspected, especially after the queen was found dead in her cell. There had to be another way.

"You said this Sparrow; he made the High Septon walk through the streets?" She interrupted the bar tender.

He seemed not to mind. "Yeah, stripped him naked like the day he was born and made him walk from the whore house back to the Sept of Balor! The walk of atonement he calls it!" He was laughing now.

That could be the key! If Arya could get back to King's Landing before Cersei did her walk of atonement, she would have any number of ways to rid the world of her!

Arya strode out the bar, the door clanging shut behind her, drowning out the complaints of the bar tender.

In one swift motion, she sliced the reigns of the nearest horse and climbed on the back, spurring it into motion. She hoped the horse was well rested; she would have to ride this horse to its limit to get to King's Landing in time.

Arya stopped for nothing, she took the most direct route – or at least as direct as she could now that the bridge at the Twins was sitting at the bottom of the lake.

She passed several patrols, probably out looking for Tyrion. She had chosen her steed well, coupled with the fact that she was not burdened with armour; they hadn't a hope of keeping up.

Her horse was tiring now, it's breathing laboured, sweat covered its flanks. They were within sight of King's Landing, she allowed the mount to slow and finally stop, his laboured breathing now replaced with a hacking cough. She hoped that it wouldn't draw attention to any of the guards when they got closer.

She slipped off his back and turned her eyes skyward. The guard detail on the walls had increased since she was last here. She half expected that, when the king and the hand of the king are murdered in plain sight on the same day, it tends to raise questions about security.

Then again, that might work in her favour – if new city guards were hired to man the walls then she could disguise herself as one of them and not raise suspicion.

She would need to get her hands on a guard's armour though, how would she do that? It was too dangerous to risk entering King's Landing, she had already escaped twice… or was it three times? Regardless, she dare not risk another, not with everyone on high alert.

Perhaps she could catch one of them outside the walls, taking a piss? His absence would be noted quickly and the alarm would be raised. Could she bribe one to give up his armour? She didn't have anything to give.

Then it dawned on her. The easiest way to get a man out of his armour… deceptively simple but Arya had no idea if she was able to do it. It was the one tactic she had never tried.

She thought of her family; Bran, father, Sansa, Robb, mother, their wolves, she even blamed the Lannisters for Rickon's death and the destruction of her home even though technically Theon Greyjoy was responsible for that.

Theon Greyjoy! Why wasn't he on her list? How could she have only just now realised that she hadn't condemned him to the Red God?

For some strange reason, she had no burning desire to kill him. Arya found this curious.

She shook herself, none of that was important right now.

Arya cupped a hand full of water from the lake and splashed her face with freezing cold water, scrubbing as hard as she could to get the layers of dust off her face. She let the water fall through her short hair as well but she had no hope of taming the tangles but wet, it looked slightly better.

Next was the clothes, filthy but not flattering, they had to go. She began shedding layers until she was dressed in nothing but a thin blouse and shorts, no shoes.

 _I am an exotic beauty. I am an exotic beauty._

She checked her reflection in the lake one last time and climbed on the horse. They moved slowly and non-threateningly into view and across the bridge to the two guards by the door.

Immediately they were on high alert but relaxed as soon as they saw that she was a helpless young girl. She stopped, put on her best meek voice and begged safe passage into the city.

Predictably they laughed, shared a joke and then one of them approached her horse. "You want safe passage, you have to pay the toll." He leered.

"P…Pay? But I have no money. Please!"

Again he shared a smile with the other. "I can think of another way you can pay."

"You can?" Arya feigned, innocence with fear and looked quickly between the two.

They bought it. "Come down off that horse and I'll show you how you can get in."

She allowed herself to be gently pulled off the horse and followed behind. The look he gave the other guard disgusted her, thinking that he had conquered something, was going to take advantage of some poor peasant girl.

The joke was on him. As soon as they were out of sight, he pushed her against the stone wall and undid his sword belt, letting it drop to the ground.

Arya grabbed the hilt and swung it around.

The guard was spurting blood from a gaping neck wound before he had even realised what happened.

She dodged most of the spray in time but some of it still coated her shoulder and right arm.

The guard fell to the ground, technically still alive, still grasping his throat while Arya stripped him of his fine gold armour.

It was far too big for her of course but it didn't matter, it only needed to stay on long enough for her to kill Cersei and get out again.

Fully armoured, Arya called for help in a panicked voice. The other guard came running, straight into a waiting sword. The same look of confusion on his face.

Now to get onto the battlements. The open sewage running through Flea Bottom flowed downhill and ended at the storm drain around the back of the castle.

Without these drains, the city of course would crumble under its own waste but made for serious weaknesses that were never defended. Making it easy for someone who knew how, to get in and out of King's Landing.

Arya had extensively explored the vast maze of tunnels and drains under the city and as far as she had found out, this was the only one that lead up to the city watch tower.

She climbed it slowly, using all her senses to discover the locations of the other guards. She heard whispered conversation, heavy boots on wooden floors and the rhythmic chink of armour.

"…Not going out there! You think I want to be seen defending _her_?" One of the guards was saying.

"But we're the city watch, we're supposed to protect everyone in it, aren't we?"

A guard scoffed. "Sit down boy. If you live long enough you might learn… We protect whoever pays us! Used to be the queen but now…"

She smiled. _At long last, Cersei finally learns what power she really has._

Arya grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows and stepped outside.

Sure enough, there were no guards anywhere in sight but the streets of Flea Bottom, all the way from the Sept to the Red Keep were packed. In the distance, Arya could hear a bell, she squinted to find the source of the bell.

Her eyes fell on a group four guards in dark robes and chains and a Septa, she was saying something, over and over again. _Shame_.

The crowd parted and Arya saw her for the first time, in the centre of the group. Completely naked, her long golden hair shaved, walking in that all too familiar regal posture but Cersei looked nothing like a queen today.

With her long hair and elaborate dresses, she was a queen but now; gaunt, bald, sagging breasts and stretch marks from three children, she was nothing.

Arya watched quietly as the crowd grew more riled with every step. She had guards to protect her but they didn't stop the food, shit and even spit that the peasant were throwing at her. She watched as they shouted, shoved, and some even exposed themselves to her.

She watched her cling onto that regal poise and she watched her break.

Nearly at the Red Keep, Cersei fell. Arya couldn't see if she was pushed or just collapsed.

Arya lifted her bow in her left hand.

Cersei, on her hands and knees, tears in her eyes, looked up to the battlements.

Arya drew out an arrow. "When you play the Game of Thrones…" She notched the arrow and took aim. "You win… or you die."

She loosed the arrow. "There is no middle ground."

The End


End file.
